Not A Love Story. no.2

Please erase my number.

The ones who know the feeling know it all too well. The consumption of certainty. Please erase my number—because I am incapable of erasing you. I am so certain that you can be the right person, if maybe in another world and another time. I was convinced that it would be enough if I loved you with certainty, for I am confident in how I feel about you. That is consuming. I want to talk, but I hold myself accountable because there is nothing left to talk about. Yet here you are saying all the things I want to hear. A memory of you is controlling your future in my life. The consumption of someone’s certainty will suffocate a person.

“I am sorry.”

“Can I call you?”

“I miss you.”

Please delete my number.

We all have one person who taught us what it meant to love halfway—that almost person who got away—because loving halfway does not prove substantial to its core. Certainty will consume those who are abandoned with half a ship. The ones who know the loneliness that only comes from being left with their heart coloring their sleeves are the ones who love with certainty. The ones who always have the light on, the ones who are consumed by their feelings. The ones who cannot ignore their certainty are the loneliest ones because they are in a relationship with only half of a person. They are living in a love they cannot let go.

Please erase my number.

I am incapable of erasing who you were to me. That makes me a victim of you turning off my light in the future. To be in harm’s way of feeling alone in a dark room with all of my certainties. Loving you is lonelier than being alone. Please delete my number—because I cannot delete who you may be to me in the future. I cannot shake the idea of who you may become in the future. The what if of you keeps your number in my phone. I am on Do Not Disturb, so I am less tempted to pick it up if you call. Of course, I want to talk, but nothing will come from the halfway open-ended questions and revelations. I would pick up the phone to sit in just still silence, but the silence of your uncertainty is no future of mine. Everyone loves one person who showed them love, but never with the same certainty. You only went halfway. I cannot spend today waiting for someone who will keep me waiting for them again tomorrow.

Please erase my number. Erase me as an option. The ones who have been loved halfway know the potential, the good, the beauty, and the magic of love, but they never get to keep it. Being loved by someone like you is never known until you come out on the other side. And so, I deleted your number last week. I slowly caught my breath as “I am sorry…Can I call you?…I miss you” disappeared from my lock screen. As my suffocation subsided, I reveled in my certainty that you would continue to love me from a distance, only halfway. That is where you and I are not the same. Keeping my number never crossed your mind. Deleting your number is comparable to taking a breath of fresh air after rainfall. I can breathe with certainty. Please delete my number—because halfway words of love from you became half of the things I did not want to hear anymore.