Saturn in Aries: This Shit Again.

A year ago from today, I met someone. It’s a story with crescendoing violins, past lives, secret kisses behind the rain. Of inside jokes told with a single look. Of watching a sunset, laughing with friends while our hands are held tight in pain.

Today, I will tell a growth story.
I won’t go into the intoxicating details of the prequel. But in summary, it was a summer made of dreams. 

That’s a story for another time. A love story. It deserves to be told.


ONE YEAR AGO

You and I were in love, even though we never said the word. We each let it hang on the edge of our lips. You had your fear. I had my pride. 
I made the adult decision to end things. We weren’t on the same life-page.

“Let’s say goodbye before we both head off on our respective vacations.” The timing seemed aligned.

I had said we’d have no contact.

I'M TRAVELLING.
YOU'RE TRAVELLING.

But my distractions don't keep you away from my thoughts. It is always a delight to see your name pop on my phone. Like a kid given candy. “Maybe I was too harsh,” I think, “Maybe I can still enjoy him, for what it is.” I'm a sucker for flattery. You're still thinking about me amidst your travels.

I ask you if you feel the same way. You don’t answer me directly. You’d told me you’re “bad at talking” so I’d just learned to work with it. You heart my message, ask me how I'm doing, call me to say sexy things the night before I return. I give you the benefit of the doubt.
I return from my vacay. You’re still on yours. You have no return ticket. I don’t like it, but I’m not one to stifle. 

Where are you? 

You’re somewhere along the equator. You’re meeting up with a friend who lives about three hours away.

EXCITED TO SEE YOU AGAIN

September is beautiful in Montreal. The leaves boast their colours, right before they die and begin their ugly rebirth. The calming gorgeousness of Libra, followed by the darkness of Scorpio.

I am excited to see you. My body had been pulsing for yours. You were about to witness an upgraded version of me: new jewellery, new dresses, new bum from my recent workouts.

I’d gotten you a little present. I ask for one in return:
“Could you bring me some rum from down there?”
“If I remember,” you said, “Haha.” 

I try not to worry about where your head’s at. I’d been insecure about another girl you’d posted about some weeks ago. “She’s just a good friend, tbh.” I’d taken your word for it. 
So she’s probably “just a good friend, tbh,” too, right? 
I checked out her stories just to make sure. 

THE OTHER WOMAN

I’m not a scientist. I want to learn the hormonal journey in one’s body upon witnessing something like that. Blood pressure dropping? Something stuck in throat? Face going numb? The music pausing mid-song? 
Nauseous shock, followed by surfacing of venomous jealousy. That hand on her leg…it belongs on MY leg only. Your sleepy face in her bed. Your faces side-by-side, in familiar proximity. How long have you known this other “friend”? Were you in contact when the two of us were together?
I don’t ask. I just tell you I’m not your friend anymore. You don't like it. I don't understand. There were words coming out of your mouth that don't belong to your voice.

RECOVERY 

I use the time afterwards to learn more art, to smoke less, to build momentum in my career. To keep my self-esteem intact. 
Months pass, and I learn that you’re leaving the country. I don’t reach out to say goodbye. 
But you reach out to me. You've already left. You apologise, and I appreciate it. It turns out we had been orbiting the same doubt. Your shame stopped you from writing to me. Mine was my pride.
Was the closure as satisfying as I expected? What “comportment deplorable” were you apologizing for exactly?
I don’t ask. I didn't want to scare you off just as you’ve returned. That conversation would wait until we have a reunion in Brazil, or Indonesia, or along the coast of Neptune. Maybe I can meet you in some paradise for a week, for a final taste of us.
Maybe, after all, you are the good person I fell in love with. 
For now, I decided, I’ll sit in the warm glow of reconciliation.

SPRING

Five months have gone by. I’ve landed a job abroad. You’ve been supportive, warm, open. I tell you that you’re welcome to visit once I’ve settled.
You don’t say much, but you laugh at my memes, respond with enthusiasm when I tell you things. Sweety, baby, darling.
You haven’t liked my stories in two weeks. It’s fine, I tell myself. Maybe you’re just depressed again. The disappointment is mild. Short-lived.

Until I see another girl in your story. I’m three beers in when I see this.
The same heart dropping, blood pressure, face feeling numb. Many voices go off in my head. 

The first voice said: He’s allowed to be with other people. What did you expect?

The second voice said: Look, she’s looking for a sublet in Paris. If they were together, she’d be staying with him. Don’t think too much into it. Anyway, don’t be a loser. Focus on your own life. It's all good. She's probably another "just a friend tbh".

The third voice said: This shit again.
She was the loudest. 

I ignore her and crack open the fourth beer. My friends notice I’m quiet. I say I’m fine.

 
I want the second voice to be true.

When I get home, I send you something funny, that reminds me of us.
I wake up in the morning. You've left me on read.

One voice said: Ah, he does that sometimes. Especially with reels. He’ll watch it when he has the time, he’s probably running around.
Another voice said: This shit again.

You finally respond. Around noon. 

This shit again.

You: Heyy
Me: Hey?
You: How are you doing? Sorry I was in a rush today. 
Then to the reel.
You: So true, so me 🥺
I respond after 12 hours.
Me: Aw, Baby. I just sent that to be funny. But yes, communication is a useful art. 
You: 🙁 I’m bad at it.

I don’t know what to say. All I know is that history is not repeating itself. 

The old me would have responded: "Aw, it’s okay! We all have weaknesses, it’s up to us whether we become their victim or we overpower them. We live in a sapphire age of access to learning. I believe in you. You got this."

The new me responds: Maybe you’re choosing to be.

You: ​​No, I don't think so, I have been raised like that. I'm like that by nature but I mean I can change it. 

WHAT SHOULD I SAY

I could say many things.
I could applaud you for the peephole of accountability. I hear your defense, like cracks on a rock. But you did reach a conclusion all on your own.

I could deliver tough love: “Yes, but it’s nice for you, non? Because then that puts the workload on others, to fill in your gaps of silences. Plus, you can get away with neglect.”

Weaponized incompetence isn’t just for household chores. 

I could be the cheerleader you’re used to. You could admire my glistening inspiration. I could move you into new dimensions, and you’d be forever in awe.

Or.

I could show you that behind the smooth charisma, I actually know all your secrets. I’ve performed an anatomy on your soul. And I will expose to you insecurities you never knew you had. 

I say nothing. 

SCORPIO SUN + CHIRON IN GEMINI

You see. 

Communication is one thing I’m actually very good at. 

My words can open your eyes. My words can sting. My words can nurse. My words can make you feel like a god. My words can kill you slowly, like poison.

My words are my saviour. My words are my weapon. 

I won’t say, “You're not good enough for me,”

I’ll say, “My friends think you’re ordinary,”

I won't say, "She's ugly," 

I'll say, "She's going to regret those tattoos in ten years." 

I won't say, "She was being a bitch," 

I'll say, "She acts like she's in a loveless marriage."

I won't say, "He's an asshole,"

I'll say, "He's a failure in life."

I won’t say, "She’s obnoxious."

I’ll say, “She looks like a nightmare mother.” 

I won’t say, “The two of you deserve each other.”

I’ll say, “Perhaps you’re just as unintelligent as her.”

I won't say, "You're hurting me," 

I'll say, "You're turning into your father." 

My therapist says: Two things can be true at once. 

You are sensitive and loving. 

You are scared and selfish. 

I gave you my heart as a gift. You held it gently, kissed it carefully. 

And then you tossed it beside a stack of old underwear. 

SATURN AND NEPTUNE EXIT PISCES TO ENTER ARIES

The lacy moonlit curtains have lifted. And I’m looking at a fiery sun. 

So, yeah babe. Go ahead and “heart” all the flashing ass pics you want.

I’ll be walking down my throne with my phenomenal tits. 

LIBRA RISING

Justice tastes like…crispy air. Lavender macaron.