So apparently, September 18 is now a thing.
Not even September yet. And I'm already anxious.
Which is impressive, really. My nervous system deserves an award.
So last night, I had a little meeting with myself.
Unfortunately, there were two versions of me present.
My brain. And my heart.
And neither of them was particularly helpful.
Brain: He's coming back because he needs a favor.
Heart: I know.
Brain: No, you don't know. You're pretending you don't know.
Heart: What?
Brain: You're already wondering if this could be a chance for you two.
Heart: Maybe.
Brain: There it is.
Heart: What if things are different this time?
Brain: He literally told you he lost the chemistry.
Heart: People change.
Brain: He said he lost the spark.
Heart: Maybe the spark can come back.
Brain: He said there's nothing in common anymore.
Heart: Maybe we can find something new.
Brain: Dika.
Heart: What?
Brain: Please stop.
Heart: But what if—
Brain: NO.
Honestly, my heart is exhausting.
It has absolutely no respect for evidence.
Give it one message and suddenly it's writing an entire trilogy.
Meanwhile, my brain is sitting there with the receipts.
Because let's be honest. What did the message actually say?
Did he say hello? No.
Did he ask how I've been? No.
Did he ask how life has been treating me? No.
Did he say he missed me? Absolutely not.
Did he say he wanted to see me? No.
He needed a favor. That's why he contacted me. Period.
Brain: So why are you expecting something else?
Heart: I'm not expecting.
Brain: You're imagining.
Heart: That's different.
Brain: It's worse.
😂
And maybe that's why I have a headache.
Because part of me knows exactly what this is.
And another part of me is still looking for a tiny crack in the door.
A possibility. A sign. Something. Anything.
But what am I actually looking for?
For him to suddenly look at me and realize he made a mistake?
For him to miss me? For him to remember what we used to be?
For him to say something that changes everything? Maybe.
And that's embarrassing to admit.
Because he already told me how he feels.
He said the chemistry was gone. The spark was gone.
There was nothing in common anymore.
He even said he wouldn't divorce me unless I asked him to.
And somehow, despite all of that, my heart is still sitting here holding a tiny candle like: “But maybe…”
Girl. Put the candle down. We're going home.
Then there's another thought that keeps creeping in.
What if he has someone else?
Auntie and my bestie both think it's unusual that he's coming back.
Maybe there's something else. Maybe he has another reason.
Maybe he's meeting someone. And strangely…
that doesn't hurt the way I thought it would.
That one really caught me off guard.
Because once upon a time, the idea of him finding someone else terrified me.
Now? It's almost… fine.
Not completely fine. Let's not get carried away.
I'm not going to bake a cake for the hypothetical woman.
But it doesn't crush me. And maybe that's the biggest clue of all.
Maybe I really did change. Maybe I really did let go.
Maybe the feelings didn't disappear overnight.
Maybe they just slowly ran out of oxygen.
Maybe I didn't switch them off. Maybe they simply stopped burning.
And now I'm standing here wondering: Did I finally stop loving him?
Or did I simply stop waiting for him to love me?
Those are two very different things.
Heart: But what if September 18 changes everything?
Brain: What if it doesn't?
Heart: What if we talk?
Brain: Then you talk.
Heart: What if he looks at me differently?
Brain: Then you notice.
Heart: What if I still love him?
Brain: Then you deal with it.
Heart: What if I don't?
Brain: Then you deal with that too.
Heart: You're very annoying.
Brain: I'm the only reason we're still functioning.
Heart: Fair.
Maybe that's all I can do.
Stop trying to predict the day. Stop trying to control the outcome.
Stop turning a simple meeting into a referendum on my entire love life.
September 18 isn't going to magically tell me whether we're meant to be together.
It might not tell me anything at all.
Maybe we'll be polite strangers. Maybe we'll talk like old friends.
Maybe it'll be awkward. Maybe it'll be completely ordinary.
Maybe I'll feel something. Maybe I'll feel nothing.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll finally understand what my heart has been trying to tell me.
Because perhaps this isn't about whether he comes back to me.
Perhaps it's about whether I still want to go back.
And I don't know the answer yet. That's okay.
I don't have to know.
For now, I'm going to stop interrogating myself.
I'm going to stop analyzing one message like it's the Zapruder film.
I'm going to stop mentally rehearsing conversations that haven't happened.
And I'm definitely going to stop letting my heart write romantic fiction based on a favor.
Because apparently, even after everything, my heart still has a sense of humor. A terrible one. But a sense of humor nonetheless.
So, September 18… We'll see.
You can come when you're ready. I'll be there.
Hopefully with a functioning brain. As for my heart?
God help us all.
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