on what could have been.

“You were bigger than the whole sky. You were more than just a short time.”

I haven’t even started writing yet and I’m teary eyed. So you know where this one is going, my friends.

I don’t even like T*yl-r Sw-ft okay? But Bigger Than the Whole Sky was on repeat for that entire day. The day that shook me more than I care to admit.

But he’ll never read this, so we’re in a safe space.

I’m ready to talk about New York.

—

It took me three-and-a-half hours to stop crying. I cried the second I woke up. I cried as we carted my things to the car. As we approached the airport air struggled out of my lungs. For the first time, I was speechless and in tears — in front of the person I care for, let alone a MAN.

It’s important to understand here that I don’t cry in front of others. It’s something that I’ve always done since I was quite little. But especially as I’ve grown up… I’ve never let someone know, to their face, that they’ve broken me. This was so new to me. And yet, I effortlessly sobbed as he held me, time and again.

At first, I debated staying sat in the passenger’s seat. Sick to my stomach and full of grief.

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been.

I couldn’t look at him. I was leaving. I was leaving and everything was so unfinished. We were unfinished. We are.

But some unknown force to me carried me out and onto the curb. The sun was perfectly falling on us. Drying the salt stains that dotted my cheeks.

“Do you have everything?” and small-talk fills the heavy space between us.

“No.” Because we both know I don’t. I can’t. Find. Words. Everything cues a river of tears I can’t stop. But I surprise myself.

“Will you miss me?” A question I’m infamous for. I manage a half smile. We kiss, but it’s different. It feels final. I think we both felt it. I can feel hyperventilation kick in and wave myself away.

Leave it to me to collapse no more than five steps into the airport in tears. I pretend to re-pack my things, but I’m trying to gather more than some clothes. Sympathetic airline check-in staff don’t even bother me with my overweight bag. They had just watched me fall apart, and probably assume it’s better not to nudge me before I break (again).

I cried through security, which prompted a few extra checks and stern looks. I tearfully sat in the lounge waiting for my flight and connecting back to the reality I left. I just wanted to be back home, in my bed, under every blanket I owned.

When I finally parked myself on the flight home, I really let it out. For so many stares that I rendered unimportant. In this moment, I just needed to feel everything. The flight attendant brought me a filled-to-the-brim glass of white wine, unprovoked. Mind you, this airline is known for being stingy with alcohol - so she knew I was in my feelings. Something that simultaneously made me giggle and cry more.

What should've been you.

What could've been, would've been you.

—

I’ve spent most of this diary writing about leaving. But you’re probably wondering, what happened during?

I could say love, but maybe he would disagree. He shows me a city I had never been to, but had quickly fallen for. And I mean, really shows it to me. He shows himself, to me, too. We eat the most delicious foods. He takes me to places that mean something to him, and shows me milestones of his life in a place otherwise unknown to me. It now feels familiar. Warm. He does too. Home.

He shows me parts of himself he says others don’t see. His home. His life. His day-to-day. Something that has grown to feel a part of my own life, too. I can put places to things we’ve only talked about, and faces to names. The pieces feel like they fit. Well.

I am swirling in a place I am sure I will come to call home too. Nothing felt wrong. In my last days in a city I can’t find reasons to get sick of, though, I growingly feel nauseous.

We talk about why it can’t work. Why it’s nonsensical. Why it’s better to just remain as it was.

But nothing ever really goes back to what it was, does it?

And we’ll never talk about that because it’s easier not to, right? To pretend like it’s normal to go from consistent conversation to saying hello once in a fortnight. To go from sharing everything about and to each other, to talking about the weather. To go from deep belly laughter and lingering kisses to shutting each other out.

Did some bird flap its wings over in Asia?

Did some force take you because I didn't pray?

Five days. Five days to go from a perfectly sound foundation to shaky, at best.

Everything I felt was deep in my soul. Electric. But it was his smile that truly captivated me. Mysterious. Charming. Simply irresistible. I want to keep it for myself. For good. But you can’t hold what doesn’t want to be held, can you?

The intensity paired well against the city’s sleepless energy. Every moment. With this feeling came the complexity and challenges of nurturing a relationship in a generation that can’t seem to house it. Our differences. The chaos of our individual lives.

It’s too much, for him. I thought this would look like learning about each other and growing together. He contrasts.

—

I can sit here and wonder what changed but what will that do for anyone? For us? As I reflect on the absolute whirlwind of emotions and events that have shaped the past few months, I find myself at a loss for words. Again, shocking right?

But I feel compelled to share this chapter because if you’re reading this, you’ve likely been a part of it in some way. You know that New York stole my heart and holds it, and that taking chances is better than wondering forever what could have been.

Whether our love story is destined to be a fleeting chapter or a lifelong journey, it has forever changed me. It reminds me to embrace the unpredictable, to find beauty everywhere, and to love with all my heart no matter what. That magic can happen when two paths cross at just the right moment. That it can happy anywhere. That it can be anything.

I am grateful for every moment, every lesson, and every emotion that New York has brought into my life.

In all its glory and madness, New York City became a metaphor for our love - beautiful and unpredictable, but worthy of adoration nonetheless.

—

A