Today marked one year. One year since Mark had packed up nothing and finally walked out of Sylvie’s life. She sat at the same booth in the same cafe where, a year ago, she watched as Mark tried to care and tried to explain why, even though he said he was not ready for a relationship, he now was, and it was not with her. 

She sat on the same side of the booth but ordered a different drink. Recently, she realized that she quite liked lattes; not only that, she actually hated green tea. She didn’t know why she drank it for almost 3 years. 

Everything in the cafe was the same. The barista was the same. Only Sylvie now had a blonde pixie cut. It suited her. She also dressed differently now. A lot was the same, and a lot was also different. The most significant thing was that she was sitting here alone. A year ago, you would never have caught Sylvie alone. She hated it. Over the past year, however, she has grown a fondness for solitude. It was great she had time to think about herself and what she wanted. 

Anyways.

In front of Sylvie was a blank piece of paper. After a morning well spent crying and remembering, she devised a brilliant idea to put pen to paper. Fortunately for her, she no longer had Mark’s number. She had nothing of Mark at all, just the memories. She wondered how she could get rid of those too.

The plan was to write a letter. It would be an unsent letter because, as we know, she did not know where Mark was. But the letter would be her final remarks and well wishes as she celebrated the anniversary of her rebirth and emancipation. There were still a few things she needed to get off her chest.

And so she wrote: 

Maybe I am not supposed to understand 

Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense to me. How you can treat someone one way, and they treat you another. 

For so long, this reality was difficult to accept. We are raised according to universal standards, at least that is what they say. “This is what is right. And this is what is wrong,” they said knowing this is gonna take you far. 

However, it didn’t take me anywhere with you. 

I have always been a rule follower. Rules make sense to me, I am often too lazy to go against them. You are not lazy at all. I guess there might be something good in that. At least there is something good. 

I still think about you, about us, and what we never were.

For so long, I replayed it over and over. Like seasons I moved from blaming myself to blaming you, to hating you. It was active, and I found myself suspended in my memories, still picking apart moments. Only this time, I wasn’t picking myself apart too. I would feel waves of sadness as I now understood how little you cared. How careless you were with me, with my heart. It breaks me to remember how little I knew, how beautifully I opened myself up to you, how I welcomed you to my place, my safe space. I now see the strength behind my vulnerability: the cowardliness behind your walls. It never made sense how I could approach you with such care, and you showed me the opposite 

Time has been proven to be nothing but a social construct. And while there was little time between us, I created a lot of space for you. And I kept the space for you despite the fact that you never made space for me. It never made sense to me. I now realize that it never will.

I can’t comprehend how you can treat someone the way you treated me because I would never treat someone like that. This is simple, but I needed to realize one thing before I came to this conclusion.

You did this to me. 

I did not hurt myself. I did not set myself up to be misled and lied to. I never gave you permission. Your actions were your own, and so is the responsibility. 

I prosecuted myself for the treatment you inflicted. I put myself at the stake when really I was the victim. What I needed was protection. What I needed was to be so far away from you.

Not redemption. 

How greedy must one be to allow a hungry man to give you food when you know you just ate? How selfish, how unkind.

Your actions provide an overview of your character. There is nothing more to investigate, nothing to discover. The proof is in the way that others feel once you have left a room, and I felt horrible. We operate on different playing fields; I am here, and you are somewhere. Our paths were never meant to cross. You stayed because you had never seen the sun so bright, I stayed because I thought I would see stars in that kind of darkness 

Our exchange was not even. But I have since returned what was never mine, a desire for acceptance that I have never needed. 

I can run now, that burden is off my chest. I can breathe even deeper than I have ever done. 

We are not the same, and we will never make sense to each other. What a blessing that is, what a blessing.

Sylvie

“Excuse me, ma’am, would you like another latte?”

“Oh no, thank you, I’ll take the bill”

Sylvie never returned to that cafe; she found one down the street that she liked more, and they had freshly baked croissants, too.