This is the post where I come off the worst, although I don’t think I come off particularly well in any of them. Post 2 is about EN. And there should NEVER have been another post on him, so clearly I fucked up. Big time.
Before I left for Europe, I started missing EN. I did the best I could to ignore this, despite some strong urges to see him. Then, my lift to the airport came down with the flu and was unable to take me, something I found out only a couple of hours before I was due to leave, and EN offered to take me. I gave in to the desire to see him (and the desire to not deal with Sydney public transport with my luggage… yuck…) and agreed. And it was great to talk to him again; not many people know me as well as he does and even less have known me for the same length of time as him. The floodgates were opened.
When things started to go wrong on my journey over*, it was 1am Sydney time and he was the only friend awake. We messaged each other for hours until I started to feel better again. I was at breakdown point with a mixture of frustration, stress, irritation, homesickness and loneliness. Iàm struggling to think of one other person who could have helped me to the degree he did.
And then there were other reasons to message or call, and so we did. Every day. Several times each day. The depression I’m trying so damn hard to fight kicked in severely and he provided good comfort. At one point I started to think about trying again with him – a thought process strongly helped by my sister’s insistence that we could work it out and that love is hard and you just need to deal with your issues. I considered it long and hard, but was conflicted – a state of mind made worse by the Coffeeguy situation (this was pre Monday).
As soon as I managed to snap myself out of the fog that is my depression, I knew that I wasn’t ready to go back to him. I still love him and I miss him and it’s damn hard. But it’s not the right time, and I’m not ready and I can’t do it.
Unfortunately, the constant contact combined with my behaviour for the duration of my trip means he isn’t aware of how over this still is. So, an awesomely awkward and heartbreaking** conversation awaits my return to Sydney.
* I have the worst fucking luck with travelling, no joke.
** For both of us, I would imagine.