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Thank you for reminding me that I own a pulse.

I didn’t think it would be fair to do what the kids call “ghosting”. Real world relationships don’t work like that. Eventually you must tell the other person that you’re ready to move on.

I sent you a message in Tumblr. I tried texting your phone but you said you lost it. But yet you were posting on Instagram. I wanted to call you but see the first excuse. I think that’s what upset me the most. You were there but not.

Crazy to go from thinking about futures to wanting no future with you. What a phase.

I got caught up in your wind.

When I didn’t hear from you that entire weekend, I grew furious. Checking my phone for phantom messages, wondering why you disappeared on me. I grew attached to the idea of you. Of what your love could liberate from within me. I found myself wondering if you were a dream. If I went too far because my heart wanted so hard to believe that your love was so close.

But then reality set in. I realized after the fog of your potential love lifted: I was over it.

Not you. But it.

It has eluded me my entire life and I told you about it. I spent years of life chasing it with people who never wanted to be such a thing. Five years here, seven years there. It kept me from being what I was thought was “normal” in high school and behind in college. It was the thing I ran from when I thought everyone wanted to be an it with me. It was a game, I broke hearts over it.

I bet it would have been dope with those people if let my heart lead the way.

Seven years ago, I thought I met the perfect person for it. But he didn’t want it.

But then there was you and you wanted it.

Now I don’t believe any of it. What you said not that love will never happen in my life. That “it” I still believe in.

I wrote that I feared giving our relationship to God and God saying that I should let it go. God rid it from my life before I could even pose the question. No surprise because I had doubts after I met you. Some of your movements weirded me out. You were a terrible communicator.

All those things came to pass.

Love is a verb. I’ve heard so many things because what love would make someone do for me and it never happened. And I knew that. But yet, the things you said in those 157 minutes..

Or what you didn’t say. The number of calls from you since that night? Zero.

Memoirist in spirit and in truth. Christian essayist when both the spirit and truth move me. email: crjtwrites[at]

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