THE UNEXPECTED GRIEF OF BREAKING UP

One year ago tonight, you got intoxicated sipping vodka from my lips. Currently, I'm drinking lukewarm vodka from the bottle and scrolling through pictures of you. I chose lukewarm vodka because it tastes like sorrow. My room is filled with the scent of vodka and an adrenaline rush proudly sponsored by looming deadlines. I need to roll a joint or engage in something interesting, like swallowing your moans with kisses, or experiencing something that stimulates me; anything to reduce this angst I feel inside. Last night I was so anxious I could barely sleep. I had to spend the night having flashbacks and writing about the parts of you I covet—your toothy smile, your suede lips, your bright eyes, and the lightning bolts tattooed on your ass. Once again, I was reminded of how beautiful you look. I believe there isn’t a world where you don't look beautiful. I have always looked beyond beauty in my choice of lovers; it was difficult to look beyond yours. I envy those who get to experience your beauty. It used to be me until you left. When you left I felt like a child who wanted ice cream, got it, and through no fault of his, it fell to the floor. Sadness enveloped me as the relationship dissolved, though I told myself I had no right to feel sad, still, I would have welcomed another ice cream, another chance with you, so I could call you Olaf again, and all those adorable Igbo names I reserved especially for you. 

Now, when your face comes up on my phone I feel nothing. Nothing. I have grown accustomed to losing you. When you left, for a long my emotions overwhelmed me, until I stopped feeling them. To bring your emotions to a halt is one of the worst feelings in the world. To quote FS Ashaolu in Hellos and Goodbyes, “I have found that the best way to stop living in fear of losing something is to lose it.” I lost you in a maze of thoughts, deep within the recesses of my mind. The relationship ended for a reason; there was no need to cling to a love that had unraveled, there wasn’t any reason to be with someone who had reached the end of their desire. But it wasn’t easy to leave. You seemed to be an expert in leaving things, tell me, how can one easily abandon the things that attachment had given them a taste of? Leaving made me realize that grief is a personal and elusive experience; it can’t be easily communicated or philosophized about. There are nameless emotions that surpass sadness.

The end of the relationship doesn't diminish the love we shared and experienced. I treasure every moment and crave such experiences again. As Aaliyah sang, “If at all you don’t succeed dust yourself and try again.” But Aaliyah was wrong for that because I tried again and again and I am yet to taste a love like yours. Love has never been more elusive in these times. I’ve swam in many waters and I’ve found none as cool and refreshing as yours—like water from earthen pots. Regardless, I can never give up on love. I’m open to loaning my heart out; my love is sufficient and my lips taste better than wine. I enjoy the thrill of being in love; I believe in focusing on things in life that bring joy, especially with and for those I truly care about. Engaging in activities that don't feel fulfilling is a waste of time. Hence, I commit less energy to relationships that I know won’t last beyond a few fleeting moments of intimacy. To me, love is an art, and true art is a grueling process. When I love someone again, I won't be difficult. I have no intention of losing it through selfish indulgence.

There’s a girl on Twitter(X) that makes my head spin a little. More than a little. As they say, fantasy is always better than the person; fantasy has no flaws, people do. She’s a writer like you. By default I am drawn to writers and book lovers; it’s an inherent flaw. We’ve had small talks, enough to weave a rich tapestry of her values. She says I’m a kind person and my messages make her smile. It’s a struggle for me to believe I possess those qualities. I had once loved a person so hard only to surprise myself with how poorly I handled their affections. A guy on Instagram confesses his love for me in spurts. From time to time he says things that would evoke a blush or disgust, depending on your perspective. I’ve turned him down many times, yet he persists. In the presence of desire, one can lose all rational judgment and act purely on primal instincts. That's what love does to you. Maybe we all need a lesson to stop loving the things that would destroy us. While I once had a little more faith in the permanence of good things, ultimately, love foreshadows pain. I felt pain when you left. I had thought you were my last bus stop until you reminded me that I was on a continuous journey. I have traveled a long road; my feet are weary, and my heart is heavy. The lover before you got married two Saturdays ago. Last year my first lover shared a video of her beautiful daughter. Surprisingly, you haven’t found someone new since you left. The dating pool is already a cesspit anyway, it’s chaotic out here. There are many fishes in the pond looking after their selfish interests without value to offer. Even the sex is dreadful, it feels like a chore and I hate chores. I didn’t think of all that when I allowed someone to waltz into my life after the breakup. It was not a sensible decision, but the sex was good, initially or so I thought, it sustained the relationship until minimal closeness to that person made me uncomfortable. I ran out quickly enough because transferred affection gets weaker over time because they’re not truly “them.” I'll remain alone until I am ready for emotional entanglement. Now, I am learning how to love with the handbrakes on. In the past, it was either all or nothing, as I didn't know how to give half-measures. However, I believe it's necessary to reserve oneself for oneself to avoid needing something stronger than alcohol.