I almost reached out to my ex today. I was going through some of my old stuff and found a portrait of me that he had drawn. That, and its accompanying letter, made me nostalgic for a time that has passed. I found myself thinking about him—wondering what he’s been up to these past years and how he’s been doing. The nostalgia turned into a longing to hear from him and see how he’s doing and I’ll admit it: I almost reached out. I opened my phone, went to his contact, and nearly texted him asking if he wanted to meet up for a drink.
But before I could type out the message, I found myself reflecting on some things. Sure, I had the desire to reach out and hear how he’s doing but I realised that it was always me who reached out once every couple of years. We’d exchange a handful of texts and that was it. Nothing more. Never once in all these years had he reached out to me. Even when I texted, we wouldn’t really ask how the other was doing. It’d just be a couple of texts about nothing in particular. We had a bit of a rocky breakup. I hurt him when we were together and treated him poorly. He treated me poorly too, unable to give me the quality time I desired. I guess it’s easy to forget these things when you’re nostalgic—when all you want to do is hear from someone. I need to keep reminding myself of that.
He never made an effort and the warmth I feel is my own, not a shared emotion. It seems that my nostalgia and my desire to know what he’s like now are one-sided. And that’s not really a big deal. It’s been so long, there would be little to talk about than what our jobs are. I’ve moved on with my life and, I’m certain, so has he.
So what’s the point of digging something up just because I feel a little sentimental over the past? What’s the point of reaching out when texts from me would cause him distress and discomfort? Catching up is for old friends, and he and I didn’t end on good terms. So what would be the point? Perhaps it’s better to leave the past in the past.
19 January 2025
Memoirs of a Muse 