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What do I do now that I've lost you?
By Unwritten — Written on Mar 31, 2022
By Danielle Collado
I still want to call you when something goes wrong. I can admit that.
For years, you were the person I went to if I was upset. You were the person I’d seek comfort in, and you’d deliver.
That spot on your chest where I used to lay my head was my safe place time and time again. It healed me even when your words couldn’t.
So what do I do now that I’ve lost that safe place? What do I do now that I’ve lost you?
When the person you were in love with also happened to be your best friend, how do you separate the two when the love goes away? Does the friendship remain? Can it?
The easy answer is yes. Me routinely typing your name into my phone and then backspacing suggests otherwise.
See, it’s hard because I know it isn’t in my head. I know that I was that person for you, too.
I know I provided comfort. I know I made things better. I know we were more than just a couple. We were friends.
The kind of friendship you find in someone you love is different from other friendships.
That’s the kind of friendship that makes other friendships feel empty, especially when you no longer have it. The added physical comfort that you get from the friend you’re in love with isn’t comparable to anything else.
These days, my reasons for getting upset typically have to do with you. My first instinct is to not want to be comforted by you.
I don’t want to call you. Except I do.
The most ridiculous oxymoron in the world is wanting to be comforted by the person who hurt you. But it is very real and I experience it often.
It used to take a lot to stop me from reaching for that phone. I rationalized and rationalized until I came to the conclusion that you were the only person who could really help with what I was feeling.
Boy, am I glad I stopped myself.
One day I realized that the pain I was feeling was temporary. It probably wouldn’t be if I had continued to seek comfort in you.
As much as you could have helped, you could never heal me. Only I could do that.
Letting go is hard. The easy part was convincing myself of the delusion that all the feelings had remained right where we left them, even though we weren’t the same.
So yes, I still want to call you. But I don’t.
Yes, I still want to call you. But eventually, I won’t.
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Danielle Collado is writer and former contributor to Unwritten, focusing on lifestyle, health, and fashion topics. Visit her author profile for more.
This article was originally published at Unwritten. Reprinted with permission from the author.