Do you remember when you told me, “it’s me, it’s not you?”
Do you recall how I interrupted you and said. “It’s not you, it’s me?”
We each took the blame for ending what we had. I paid hundreds of visits to the past and I was certain that I caused all the misery that we lived. You traveled to the future and you were sure that you jeopardized it.
I apologized for being cynical. You apologized for being complacent.
I cried lakes. You cried rivers. We drowned in a room of tears thoroughly stagnating our love.
Tears filled both of our eyes, turning us blind. We weren’t able to look beyond guilt in that stifling room.
Outside that room, however, stood a tall handsome man called “reality.” He was calling for both of us but we were too adamant in our refusal to listen. Have you met with him yet? I did.
I met reality and it was the most ineffable meeting I have ever had. Engrossed in my pain, reality showed itself in a radical way.
My love, open your eyes. Hundreds of people are breaking up every single day. Hundreds are divorcing. Millions are lying right now on their death bed.
Look at the trees. The colorful leaf you enjoyed looking at yesterday is rustling underneath your foot today. The dog you had when you were four has now turned to ashes. The car you were fond of 10 years ago is likely dismantled by now.
Look up. The fiery sun you are enjoying will soon be hidden by stormy clouds. Look down. The shoes you are now wearing will be thrown away in a couple of years—maybe months, and be replaced with a new pair.
We are ruled by impermanence.
Life is a set of changes. Everything will change and all will eventually end. If we didn’t end our relationship by choice, it was going to end by its own death.
It’s not you, it’s not me.
I am utterly fascinated that nothing belongs to us. Even our thoughts and emotions don’t. Your thoughts about our demise being your fault, weren’t quite your thoughts. My emotions that had me believing it was my fault, weren’t really my emotions.
Beyond these thoughts and emotions stand our true nature.
My true nature knows better than me. It knows that my hands, writing these words today, could stop functioning at any moment tomorrow.
I know. You know. But our ignorance doesn’t. Our ignorance knows nothing but guilt, attachment and sorrow. Our ignorance wasn’t blessed with eyes that can see beyond this tall handsome man called “reality.”
Mentally, return to the stifling room where we sat. Take back what you said, like I did. Don’t apologize. Don’t cry. Don’t blame me and I won’t blame you. Don’t feel guilty because I don’t anymore.
It’s not you. It’s not me.
Author: Elyane Youseff
Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock