It was as if it happened only yesterday, and yet it seems a lifetime ago. But I am somewhat taken aback at how fresh those memories are, the feelings, the emotions, the sadness, of how vivid the look of pain in his eyes can still haunt so many months later.
I know what caused it to be in my dreams, I know that something happened yesterday, something that someone said, was just like hearing something from all that time ago. Same words. Same sentiment. Different person.
I am not sure how JoJo and I have not crossed paths since last November, in fact, I thought I saw him pass outside my office window as I daydreaming out of it this morning. And it is strange how he doesn't come to mind and yet not only last night did I relive that whole moment, and then today, I had a fleeting glimpse of someone who was so much like him pass outside the window.
Someone commented on a post about JoJo recently, saying that I gave him the gift of opening him up to be the person he was, so he could be the person he wanted to be, that I had accepted him in a way that others close to him hadn't. But that, however hard, letting him go was, that was also a gift to him.
But at times, even now, it doesn't feel like a gift.
The sadness of his eyes can haunt, I know that it hurt him, and yet it was the last thing that I would ever want to do on an emotional level (hurting him from a sadistic point of view is a completely different kettle of fish), but, I know that it did. And yet, I know it was the right thing, and I hate that there is a little seed of doubt from the dream I had last night as to whether it could have been different.
Because I know it could not have been.
Of course it couldn't. Not really. No matter how much we may want something to "be", we cannot make it "be" if it really stands no chance of ever being.
Yes we can make things happen, we can make things work, but, only if they are on the same page, wanting the same things, needing the same things. And he and I weren't, we didn't. And it still makes me feel somewhat sad, in a melancholic way, of having to let go so completely, so totally.
With such total finality.
I miss the conversations we would have, the way we would explore the depths of his mind, finding an understanding for his longings, his needs, the things for which he carried so much shame. I miss the times we laughed, the times we shared, I miss his vulnerability and the way his eyes would drop, the way his cheeks would blush and burn. The way he would plead for more and then beg to stop. The conflict of his desires battling at force with the thoughts in his mind.
But despite that, or even because of all of that, it was the best thing for him.
Yes I know.
But, that aside, there's that little tiny part of me that sometimes wished that it didn't have to be that way. We could have continued to share so much, but there would always have been the things missing from what we needed, I didn't want to resent him, I didn't want him to resent me. I could have taken almost what I wanted, but couldn't do that to him.
Blegh! Dreams.
How difficult they can be at times, re-living a situation, a moment in time that was always best left in the past. And it was. It is. And I need to shake this feeling.
At times like this, insomnia and not being able to dream is a little more appealing!
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