lite theesko

A lot has happened since the last time I wrote about her. Since May 11th. Another ex contact, another huge fight, all the usual furniture rearranging in this burning house.

But this time was different. This time when I said we should break up, I meant it. For the first actual time. Not as a threat, not as a pressure tactic, just as a plain factual statement about what I genuinely wanted. I looked at her and I meant it.

And my stupid life still didn’t know what to do with that.

Here’s what I keep coming back to. Here’s the thought that is living rent-free in my head at 2 AM:

lite theesko.

That’s what I should have done. Back in November. First time I noticed the phone behavior, first time the mood crashed after a call, I should have just taken it light, as the Hyderabadis here say. She’s gorgeous. Her body is heaven, genuinely, physically heaven. So why make it serious? Why build a whole emotional infrastructure around someone who is clearly still emotionally elsewhere? I should have just said: hey, no long-term plans here, but I’m happy to be casual. Fuck buddies, whatever the appropriate term is. No claims, no fights, no deleted chat folders, no crying in my apartment at midnight. Just an honest, uncomplicated arrangement.

Whether she’d have stayed or walked, I don’t know. But it would have been cleaner than this.

That’s November. I didn’t do it then.

I also didn’t do it now. Even when I meant the breakup for the first time, I suggested a 30-day break instead of just ending it cleanly. A break. As if what this relationship needs is a spa vacation.

She refused. And then she said she would do suicide . Cut her hand, she said. Some method. I don’t know how serious she was. I don’t know how serious anyone is in that exact moment. What I know is that I heard it and my whole body just froze and I said okay, we won’t break up, and she said okay, and that was that.

I stayed. Again.

I am completely, helplessly, profoundly incapable of doing the one thing that would probably save me.