This is, as the title states, a blog about something that I’ve been thinking about for a while now: heartbreak. I will admit it isn’t a super fun read, nor was it fun to write. In fact this document has been open in the background of my computer since January, not even saved (Document22), with a sad blinking curser after “Virginia Wolf”. I would see it in my little dock and sneer at it most times. Today, though, I think I’m ready to finish it. Like most heartbreak and Kallie-isms… Let’s wander a bit and get sad before we smile through tears of laughter as we walk away feeling the same way after a good film- forlorn and ready for tacos.

Virginia Wolf once said she’d like to fill a book with all the things that are unsaid, and I’m not sure it is a terrible idea. We humans are lost, fallible, lonely, and scared. Some more than others, perhaps. Some hide their hurt better, some hold their hurt in their heart where it manifests into deep anger, bitter resentment, and a lonely child clawing to get out. These things left unsaid… well, I can’t say things to the people I can’t say them to anymore, but I can say things to their ghosts. I can say it to the nice little bits they left in me, to the big shards that bleed when I move the wrong way, to the scars that stretch and glide with my skin easily now, to the drumming in my ear when I hear their name, and the drop off a cliff my stomach does when I see someone that vaguely looks like them. The ghosts that are left, after all the hurt and all the happy… Those are where I can keep my secrets, they are where I can store my hurt that no longer fits in my chest.

            I still talk to you. I always had; alone in my room at night, when running, driving in my car. We talk all the time, and you say all the right things. You are in the mirror looking back at me smiling slightly and gently teasing me. You are next to me in bed while I decide if I should set my alarm clock for an hour earlier and go to the gym (you are very pushy in this regard). I see you across the Goodwill shopping rack way when I see a cringe-worthy T-shirt or in the duck casserole dish that was clearly painted by someone’s ne’er-do-well nephew.

What I’m getting at with all the whimsy is that you’re not really gone even when you are and that, perhaps, is sadder than you being gone. I find myself thinking mostly fondly of you… but there are times in a dark shower, listening to a song I heard on the plane ride home that hits me. Those aren’t tears, are they? Surely not. Surely not after almost a year… that must be the water from the shower.

It’s taken me months to really sus out what I’m trying to get at here and the long and short of it is-it isn’t really you, it’s me. (Cue 90’s themed music and zoom out with credits rolling)

It’s not you, it’s me; let’s talk cliches here. It’s not you, though. I miss and mourn for the version of me what was enraptured with you. I miss the days spent talking about nothing, the butterflies I felt, and the endless motivation to be better and do better. You met me in my life at a time that I didn’t fully know Kallie, yet. I didn’t have the backbone I do now (barring work situations. I don’t even want to hear it, Kiki), I didn’t have a way to assert myself or raise an eyebrow when someone crossed my boundaries. You didn’t know me, not really, you knew a version of me that was on the cusp and to be quite honest- I miss her.

Now, now, I don’t miss being walked all over. I don’t miss being unsure and anxious and inexplicably angry all the time. What I miss, genuinely, is the sense of abundant hopefulness and feeling that I have everything to learn still. WHOA, Ego, let’s explain to the people what we mean; I don’t know everything now and in fact, the more I learn the less I know. But I’ve settled into that. I’ve settled into the feeling that I’ll never know enough and find comfort in that. Back then, though, I had the feeling of thinking I’ll get to the point that I know everything. I miss learning so vigorously that I stay up until 3am (poor sleep hygiene) to continue to read/watch/do/see. I miss the light feelings of mid to late 20s where you know ~good, but you don’t even know how to get to better quite yet to eventually get to know best.

And that is where it leaves us, two people on similar paths in life’s but perhaps on different trains. People who enjoy each other genuinely but cannot genuinely be people who are together. I will admit, some of this I tell present me these things to stop those random nights the tightness in my chest flares up since I can’t tell if it is YOU I miss you, or tell the young me who only knew hope where you were concerned and not heartache. There is a good deal of thought that went into this for that reason; the heartache feels like an unbearable secret that young-Kallie doesn’t quite deserve. She doesn’t deserve that crushing feeling of yet another rejection and disappointment. But it is funny, when I think of you, I don’t think of the negative for the most part. I think of you after I finish a book and write and note to bring it up when we (don’t) talk again. I think of you when I see a dog that looks like their owner and know you’d have a quip. I think of you when I practice my accents. You’re in my mind when I buy anything PNW related. And the worst/funniest part? I forget for a moment. I forget that I don’t need to take notes to chat or practice my accents. There is a short second where that same hopeful-Kallie pops her head up for a second with your name popping up in her mind like the Wiley Coyote holding up the “Yikes” sign. But hopeful-Kallie quietly retreats again as I usher her to the corner of my mind where she can read Vampire books and daydream of you while humming.

That… That is heartbreak to me. Not knowing how to tell the past version of yourself that I (present me) really tried, but not in the right way. That we (present we) didn’t make it. How do I tell the hopeful-Kallie who I see looking back at me in the mirror somedays, that I failed? How could I bare to hold my head up high and without crying tell myself that the multiverse might have better luck for us? Is there a method to tell your past self that time-travel isn’t an option?

But that is the stew that I’ve stewed on; meeting you again as a more confident and present me, but trying to present myself behind the veil of hopeful-younger-Kallie. I tried to take that young girl and shove her out of that book corner front and center. It was like I was whispering all the things we’d learned since our 20s from behind her cringing when she shied away at the wrong time (from Present-Kallie’s perspective). She was like one big meat puppet. It was like Ariel taking directions from Sebastian was pretending to lay dead on a tray; I knew I was disappointing someone somewhere, but I wasn’t sure how. But I still got it wrong save for one thing; that was my final hardest lesson on personality. While I still love young-Kallie, I still let her out and smile when we are driving alone, talking to ghost-you, I won’t ever subject her to trying ventriloquism again. And dear reader, before you tell me that no one should have to take full blame for the end of a relationship… I do know that. But this isn’t about them or you or anyone else. This is me and my guilt held up as a white flag for the world: I was wrong. I was harsh to myself, and I was so so worried about fucking it up that I did that. There is no going back in time, and I wouldn’t want to now anyway. I know what I know, and puppet master Kallie felt more alone, even though two of her very nice personalities were present, than I ever had before. I can’t put young-Kallie though that again, in truth, I don’t even subject her to the heart break that still festers in my chest some days. I just let her smile and practice accents driving home after a very long day at work. I let her sigh contently after another finished book while we think of the implications it had on humanity. Most importantly, I still let her daydream.

I won’t blame anyone in this scenario, as I live by “right person wrong time is still the wrong person”, and I know I have flaws. There is not a way for present me-in all my faults and quirks-to have made room for the person that I was anymore (though I tried so hard to make it happen I think I made it worse during our time together). Now, I greet hopeful-Kallie daily and thank her for her time, but I can only continue to allow her space in my heart in the corner and not running the show. Present me and you… well, we know how that story ends.

So where does that leave us on our wandering journey, I wonder? Did I make any sense? To me, yes; likely on par with most of my posts. Did I come to a conclusion? Unlikely; I don’t even know what I’m getting at besides I miss you. I miss hopeful-Kallie. I miss… a lot of things. Did we gain insight into heart break? No, as it stated this was meant to be an open letter. What is an open letter? Unknown; perhaps I’m allowed to change my mind on it later.