Reminiscing

Everytime I come back to my hometown Munich I have a ritual that I never fail to follow: I call my ex-boyfriend. My highschool love. My first real relationship. The one that was worth fighting for, again and again and again. No matter how many times I fell on my face, I somehow found the energy to get back on my feet. An energy that I no longer have. No relationship was ever the same after this one. Maybe it is because I gave so much that I never fully recuperated or maybe it is because somewhere very, very deep in my heart I never let go of the hope that one day he would wake up and realize he loves me, he needs me and wants me back in his life.

Everytime we talk, we tell each other what is happening in our lifes. If and who we are dating and especially, are we happy?

But after a few minutes of small talk we always get back to the same topic: US. We talk about the good times, the times that made us laugh, the times where we were so good together... we talk so much about those times that I completely forget the many times I cried, until I hang up the phone and his voice is no more than a distant memory... I forget about the pain he caused, everytime he left me, everytime he cheated... I forget how much I longed for hearing him say "I love you". I forget that sometimes I felt like crawling into bed and never coming out again. I forget that he humiliated me...

I only remember that we laughed, that we would spend hours and hours together without getting bored of each others company. I remember seeing the pain in his eyes when he saw me crying... I remember him being confused about why he had to make me suffer... I remember him second-guessing his decisions and coming back to me...

It's been three years. We have lived our lifes far away from each other and our lifestyles could not be more different. But even now I still wonder if we could have been happy if I would have just tried a little harder. If I would have just found that little ounce of energy that would have kept us going... but I didn't. I gave up. I left and tried to forget. But I can't. I guess "if" is really the worst word in the dictionary... because IF I would have just chosen him over my "high-society" party-life I wouldn't be as lonely as I am now...