What It Felt Like, by Tess Wenderski

It felt like my insides finally fit together, the important bits of actual me that had been floating around, bumping into one another, unsure where to go, had finally found a place. It felt like I was being seen for the first time, not just being looked at. Like he was falling into me when I caught his eye. Like he saw everything, especially the parts that I didn’t know about or didn’t want to know about. It felt like fitting into a space that had been made just for me and everything was where it belonged. It felt like falling asleep and realizing that I was waking up into a reality better than any dream I could ever have. It felt like I was a ball poised above a ramp, and he was the push that sent me flying down and into the air. All potential energy, no belief that it would ever end. It felt like dropping onto a trampoline and feeling the weightlessness of the lift-off, knowing that eventually I would come down. And being safe, even as I fell. My heart felt like a river, flowing smoothly and predictably before him.

After him, it felt like rapids that I couldn’t control, and didn’t want to. Each touch was a rock that I crashed against as excitement poured itself through me. Each smile was a gust of wind that took my breath away. And each kiss was a waterfall that I plummeted down and wanted to experience again. He felt like walking outside and knowing it would be night, with the stars overhead and the moon gently lighting my face. He felt like slipping into the ocean and being softly pulled away the beach without worry of tripping. He felt like a thought that would never leave my mind, and he was like a thought that never stopped thinking. He felt like a success, an accomplishment, an achievement. Something inherently proud and worth working for, something that had seen struggles and pain but had found its way through. He felt like a magnet, pulling and attracting me, keeping me close because I didn’t want to be anywhere else. He felt like happiness that I didn’t know existed. He felt happiness that I didn’t know was possible. He was infectious and intoxicating, and I began to be able to feel happiness through him. He felt like peace.

II

It felt like I was falling, tumbling down into myself. Like my heart was a hot-air balloon and someone had punctured it. All the air escaped me and I was left, collapsing.

It felt like I was structured around an idea that had grown and expanded, filling each inch of me, my heart and soul. The pillars that supported my internal self were surrounded by the hope and happiness that this expanding idea had spilled into me. And then it felt like being sucked inside out, and being twice as hollow as I had been before. It felt like I had caved into myself.

It felt like watching a kite break its string and fly away. There was nothing I could do except watch it go, soaring high into the air. Nothing I could do would bring it back, and it was free and where it belonged. But I was left to witness its grand escape.

It felt like having my voice silenced for me. Because I had no right to ask you to stay. Because you have this dream to follow, and I won’t beg your misery for my happiness. I won’t bargain your desire for my comfort. Because I can’t ask you to pick between your passion and a girl that you’ve known for three weeks. Even if I am that girl. Because even though you are the best thing to ever happen to me, this could be the best thing that will ever happen to you. And I can’t stop you.

It felt like being alone because suddenly you had become the only person who made me feel noticed. Alive. And you were leaving.

It felt like I was an idiot for letting you mean so much to me. Like a fool for placing my hopes in your hands without considering that they were already full of your own dreams. Like a child for thinking that this fantasy of being with you would last. Like I was selfish for wanting you to stay, and wanting you to want me, too. Like a stupid girl for wanting you to be more than just my first kiss.

I wanted more than that. I wanted moments and minutes, hours and months. I wanted you to meet my family, and spend the days with you in the spring. I wanted to drag you to my favorite places, and go with you to yours, while the summer sun watched down on us. I wanted to lie and read with you, sharing the quiet peace that comes from books. I wanted to go to concerts, plays, movies, games, museums, amusements parks, everything with you. I wanted celebration and excitement, whatever you were feeling, and to experience it with you.

I wanted to see you in the fall, when the light slanted through the trees and windows, and painted everything in a more honest light. I wanted walks and talks, sunrises and sunsets. I wanted to fall asleep with you and see you first thing in the morning. I wanted you to be mine, and I wanted me to be yours. I wanted a future that we could build so that we could look back on our past and smile.

I don’t want you to go, but I want you to be happy. And it felt like the only way for that to happen would be to let you leave.

III

It felt like a lost chance, a neglected opportunity, a half-hearted attempt. It felt empty, broken, hollow. It felt gone, left, finished. It felt like a last good-bye, a final moment, a closing of the curtain. It felt suspended, frozen, paused. And then it was done. It felt expected but not predicted, surprising but not shocking. It felt real and then it felt missing. And it was over.

It felt like my skin was warming up and moving away from my body, as though I was expanding and suddenly didn’t fit anymore. It felt like something was crawling along the inside of my arms, just underneath the skin. It felt like a hand squeezed my heart, while a vice gripped my mind. Neither worked. I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t do anything. I just watched. And nodded away what we had.

It felt like having the ground pulled away from your feet and thinking that you’ll land on your toes, but the drop is farther than you realized and you just tumble impossibly through the air, wondering when you will crash.

It felt like a decision had been made, a preference had been determined, a course of action established. And I was not included. It felt like time was playing tricks, working against me, laughing at my expense. And I was not aware. It felt like life had set into motion forces outside of my control, things I can’t comprehend, actions I can’t prevent. And I was not prepared.

It felt like a chain had marked off where I could cross and what I could say. I couldn’t ask you to stay; that isn’t what you wanted. But I let you walk away, knowing that the truth was still trapped behind my lips as I let the lie slip past, letting you go. My quiet “okay” escaped, my voice barely giving it life. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t force myself into a relationship that you were ready to leave. I couldn’t because of your plans, your desire to travel and move elsewhere. I couldn’t make myself tell you that I want you to stay.

It felt like a conclusion to a story that had only just started. It felt like a song that had been ended before the chorus. It felt like leaving something and not looking back.

IV

You decided to move to Europe. Your decision was spontaneous and unexpected. Our first kiss was the second time we saw each other after we met. In a quiet, empty room in a museum. That was my first kiss. Our next kiss was in your car that night, and I could still feel your lips hours after you dropped me off. We spent time together, and I got to know things about you. The important little things and the important big things, both. You were sweet and caring, passionate and dedicated. I felt my heart slipping into your hands. We kissed and held each other, walked to places and talked about things.

When you told me about Europe, we decided to see where we would go. And we were fine. Then you said we needed to talk. You broke up with me because we weren’t a good fit. Because we rushed. Because you kissed me too soon before you got to know me. Because you were leaving for Europe. And I had to be okay with that. I couldn’t force a relationship when half of it was moving overseas. I couldn’t ask you to stay, or hope that I would be enough for you to change your mind. You followed your dream and, even though it led you away from me, I hope you are happy.

But it felt like falling apart from the inside and letting go of something that had begun to be important to me.

It felt like remorse tied up with happiness. It felt like guilt mixed up with exhilaration. It felt like sadness wrapped around contentment. I don’t regret dating you; I regret how it ended. I wished you could have stayed because I wanted to share so much more with you.

It felt like tears and laughter had quickly switched on my face. It felt like smiles had been replaced by worry. It felt like the future was losing itself into the present.

And right now, it feels like missing you.