When Your Ex Says, ‘I Want You Back’

What if the person you bid goodbye to knocked to your doors once again? What if the goodbye turned into a new hello? How would you even feel when the person you thought walked away from you finally came walking back in your life? How should you feel when the person who was the reason why you stayed up at 2am thinking where did it all go wrong, came back. What would you feel when the person that broke your heart now wants to help you put the shattered pieces together?

I didn’t know what to do nor feel. I broke into tears, as I usually do when I read the words that summed up to one thing. “I want you back.” It was weird, there were neither butterflies nor jolted sparks in my eyes. It didn’t feel like I was on cloud nine. I felt my feet touch the ground, felt the tears streaming down my face and felt everything else. For weeks, months maybe I felt nothing. I deceived myself into thinking that I was fine; I was great even without you. I needed to, feel alright even if I saw my whole world fall apart after the day you walked away.

Since then, I cursed to the skies never to fall in love with someone like you again. Since then, I imagined scenarios in my head that I know wouldn’t happen. Since then, I imagined myself without you. Since then, I planned to be happy. Since then, I even swore on my grave not to try and run after you. But on that night, I ate all my words. I could feel my knees shake and my heart skip two beats every minute. I felt again. I felt again after months of numbing myself. That’s when I knew it was worth a shot, I felt again and it felt right.

This wasn’t how I imagined it to turn out. It was me, sending you a message containing “hi”; it really felt weird, awkward at most. I feared that after everything that happened, the space given, words said and time shared apart you wouldn’t want me back. But you feared something else, something I feared before, this wall or gap filled with pure awkwardness. I believe that with space, people tend to build walls to isolate themselves, to find themselves. The thing is we built walls, too strong to bring down; we can’t even break them ourselves. And there lies the fear that once we break down those walls, it will already be too late and a gap between us will still keep us apart.

There is a fear that even if how much we want to be there for each other we can’t, we just can’t. But there is also hope, hope that a force pull us together, a force that can somehow fill the gap between us. If this force won’t be enough, we can still work our way to through the walls, slowly but surely. One step at a time, brick by brick, we can turn those awkward hellos to our usual goodnights. Day by day, we can outgo every “I don’t what to say” and we can talk pretty much about everything. We’ll never run out of words to say and stories to share. One layer at a time, we can break down the walls we built upon hate and pride and build a bridge founded upon friendship and understanding.

We both know this wouldn’t be easy, but we got this. For now, I think the assurance that we both want to try again is already enough. For now, I think we’ll be enough. For a change, we’ll be enough. It will no longer be about measuring efforts. It will no longer be about short and late replies. It will no longer be about being stood up. It will be about understanding each other. It will be about breaking down walls and building bridges. It will be about making what we have last. It will be just about lighting up the spark of friendship. It will be about you and me and how our friendship came to be.

Now that you’re back, we’ll have to work our way up from the bottom. Now that you’re back, I won’t lose you again. Now that you’re back, it wouldn’t be the same. Now that you’re back, I’m seeing a clearer picture of you again. Now that you’re back, I wish I can make you stay. Now that you’re back, I hope now it will last. Now that you’re back, we both know what it feels like to lose each other. Now that you’re back, I hope and pray you wouldn’t end up as a passing thought but a permanent memory.