T.

I met T last December. It was unexpected.

We talked a lot, and it felt like we had known each other all our lives.

As we talked and discovered each other, I felt like I had met someone who could understand me, and my pain. A pain that we seemed to share.

When something as painful as the slow and gradual loss of someone you love very much happens to you, although it is difficult to hide, you try not to let it show. And with T. I felt I did not have to hide it.

We spent days, weeks and months talking.

We met, we made love and everything seemed light.

That’s right, it seemed.

When I met T. I knew he was smoking pot and taking drugs when clubbing. What I didn’t know was that he had an addiction.

An addiction that came between him and me.

An addiction that led me to ask myself ‘do I want such a person?”.

Don’t misunderstand, I am not judging him. I have never judged anyone and I am not going to start now.

With that question, I was asking myself if I actually wanted to “have something” with a person who is disconnected from reality for 3 days and spends the other 4 recovering.

I wondered if there was actually space for “us” in this way of living, and if that space would have been enough for me.

The first time he stood me up, I didn’t even bother. Or rather, I got pissed, but I understood the situation.

Then his silence.

His resorting to work as an excuse not to meet.

His ‘no pressure’ left me a bit dumbfounded. But what pressure was he talking about? I wanted to see him, to touch him. Why would he consider my desire to spend time with him as pressure?

Silence and distance have become the main characters now.

He asked me to meet to talk about our expectations. But what expectations does he refer to? What expectations could I possibly have?

I only had one: to see him, talk to him about all this, and then say goodbye. And I told him so.

We decided on the day to meet and talk.

The day before, he went dancing.

He couldn’t make it to see me.

He asked me to postpone it until the next day.

I gave him a time and place.

An hour before, he cancelled the appointment. He was not feeling well.

Today I find myself with a message to which I do not know what to reply, or even whether to reply.

His last sentence, however, is stuck in my mind: ‘I owe you a talk’. Does he?

I feel I owe myself an apology for once again falling for a narcissistic person.