LEGO House

"I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind
I'll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I've done I think I love you better now"

And so it ended. 9 months and 4 days after a hesitant meeting blossomed into love, the world stopped turning and we fell off.

It hurt like hell when it happened. And then it continued hurting like hell over the next few days. Weeks. Months perhaps?

The decision was mutual, and we made peace with the idea, but that doesn't take the hurt away. If any, all it did was make it worse. Because the heart wants what it wants, and it doesn't realise that love cannot solve everything.

In our case, it felt like everything. There were plenty of fights, tantrums, and arguments; neither party quite willing to back down. We were both right, and we were both wrong. And like all wars, there are no winners, only losers.

So how did what felt like the greatest love story ever told come to such an abrupt and painful end?

To be honest I don't know when it started, but I do know when it stopped. I noticed when we stopped looking at apartments in Australia together. I noticed when we stopped planning for the future. I noticed when we stopped being patient with each other. I noticed when all the little quirks we used to love stopped being adorable, and started being a pain. I noticed it in the hesitation I felt about us together. I noticed it in the way he has stopped mentioning it. I noticed it in the way we both let go.

Soon we were fighting over the smallest things, all a result of past unhappiness and dissatisfaction and buried frustrations finally bubbling to the surface, erupting like Mount Vesuvius, decimating everything in its path. In our case, it was each other.

There is nothing quite like the feeling of hurting the person you love most in this world. In the aftermath of it, you look back and feel every single jab, every single word, multiplied a thousandfold, and it breaks your heart over and over again until all you are is a crumpled mess on the ground.

If someone had told me back in November 2016 that this was how it would turn out, I would have laughed in their faces. I would have told them that they were insane and things would turn out great. Because we honestly thought they would. 

We had a vision of the future, spending our lives together in a little apartment in Australian suburbia, surrounded by books and Lego and a dog and each other's arms. It was so real I could almost touch it. We made promises to look after each other, to grow old together, and to never let each other go.

Oh, how those promises ring hollow now! We meant them with every fibre of our being back then, but now, they're nothing. Just words in the past, tucked deep in the depths of our mind, never to be brought up again. Because words hurt; words that used to touch are now used to wound and maim and shatter. Never believe anyone who tells you words are harmless; they have probably never been ripped open and left to die with a few well chosen sentences.

*

"I'm gonna pick up the pieces and build a Lego house
If things go wrong we can knock it down"

The love is still there, hidden behind walls too high to climb, too strong to break, too deep to penetrate. It is broken, bruised, and battered, but it's still alive. And much like us, it is too stubborn to die, despite everything.

We are slowly picking up the pieces. Trying to put them together, even though they no longer fit. Perhaps we could be friends. Perhaps even lovers. And perhaps one day, it could happen again. 

But until then, we retreat to nurse our wounds; wounds inflicted by one another in fits of rage, wounds that hurt us more than each other. We send hesitant, guarded messages, still caring deeply for one another but unable to say it. We fear the hurt, the pain, the anger, all repeating themselves again. We are afraid, but at the same time, there is the tiniest glimmer of hope.