Hope
How hope keeps breaking my heart
Hope. I sit in my room. It’s December, getting a bit cold outside. We don’t have those freezing winters anymore, like when I was a little kid. I turn off the lights. It’s 6 pm and dark already. It’s normal at this time of the year, I guess. I’m thinking about turning on the TV and watch something to keep my mind busy. I start a few movies and most recent episodes of some series. Nothing keeps my mind busy. I cannot focus. My thoughts are far away. The noise just annoys me. I turn off the TV. Open up a bottle of wine. I’m sitting on my couch in the dark, drinking wine, smoking cigarette after cigarette. Alone. With my thoughts.
I was here already. About 10 months ago after a breakup, before starting the therapy. I was sitting in the dark alone with a bottle of wine to numb my thoughts and feelings. I had enough. I started therapy. Few months passed and I was fine again. I fell in love again. I thought it will be different. It wasn’t. Same old story. I thought, I am strong, I’ll get over this. I became fierce and I can manage my thoughts and emotions now. And even though, here I am again. Falling back, falling down, falling deep.
Loneliness is killing me slowly. Poisoning my mind, like the alcohol my body. Hope kicks in. I start to think about the past few months, the last meetings, the moment when she said goodbye. I repeat it over and over again, analyzing every moment. My mind starting to alter the past. Maybe she didn’t mean it’s final, maybe she changed her mind, maybe there is a way to change the events. I start to live in an alternative reality boosted of alcohol and nicotine. I start to make plans, when should I message her, what should I say, how to turn things around. Until there is hope there is light. My mood is shifting back to normal. I feel confident about the imagined signs of the possibility to turn back. I push the send button and wait. My heart is beating, I feel dizzy. I constantly checking my phone and light a cigarette after another. She responds. Agrees to meet up again. I’m so so happy. I was right! There is hope. We meet. We talk. We drink. We f*ck. We say goodbye.
Next evening I am back in my dark room, alone, desperate. Hope kicks in. Maybe this goodbye wasn’t meant forever. I repeat the cycle. I drink, I hope, I send a message, I wait, she responds. We meet. We talk. We say goodbye forever. Deep down I know there is nothing else I can do. Everything was said and done. We were not meant for each other. Until the very last moment I don’t give up hope. I go back to my dark place, I drink, I text, I wait. But this time it is different. I don’t get an answer. I still didn’t get an answer, it was 2 months ago. It’s better. I feel relieved. I slowly losing hope. Love let me go.
I get myself together. I use every information and tricks from the past therapy. I feel myself again. I don’t go to the dark place, I work on improving myself instead. I am happy, full of goals. Hope disappeared. Finally. I can move on. I find someone, we talk, we laugh, we drink, we kiss till the first light of sun appears on the polluted sky of the city. I am happy. I am filled with hope. Again. Next morning I check my phone, there is a message. It’s her. We need to talk about last night. I exactly know what this means. I got this message many times from many girls. Somehow I still got hope, maybe this time it will be different. This time she just wants to talk, and there won’t be a goodbye. I don’t want to hope. Hope breaks my heart again.
I’m scared. I’m scared of hope. I know what will happen during this talk. But this time it will be different. There is no saying goodbye and never meet again. There is no ghosting. She is part of the group of my closest friends. We’ll see each other. We’ll meet. We’ll talk. I’m scared, because I might be too weak to get rid of hope this time without completely changing my life somehow.
