Who am I without you?

For five months, I let a comment sit on this blog's moderation queue.

Today, I deleted that comment.

It was for a blog entry I wrote four years ago. An inconsequential one, by all means - or at least inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, even if back then it absolutely wasn't. Back then, no. Back then it felt like a big deal. Back then - considering I had little to hold on to, relatively - it felt like a big deal. Now, of course, it isn't; I'm on stronger footing, so to speak, and the follies of the past remain just that. Follies. Stupid things we thought were brilliant then.

Every time I get a comment on the blog, I get an email. For this comment, I didn't delete the email. I didn't even really read the email, more so the comment. I just let it sit. It was a long comment. The guy - he hid his name - addressed the comment to one of the subjects of the blog entry, somewhat intent on catching up with her. He must've been friends with her, or maybe he wanted to be more. I didn't read it. I'll admit, I cringed. I've done that many times on this blog, but this time I cringed.

I deleted the comment on the moderation queue, and then checked my email. Dug up that notification. Read it through.

"And also, I used to be your ex-boyfriend!"

I deleted a comment from her former boyfriend, I thought. Who am I to deny this man his moment of catharsis?

"I'm the French guy you met in 2011."

That explains the English, which I've edited here.

"I don't reclaim anything because I'm back home, in my place in France. I just want to know how you are. And how is your life now?"

I had the same questions myself, but only in passing.

"I guess that you'll never reply. I'm sure that you've changed a lot since we met. Me too."

I'm imagining a guy in France, sitting on his desk, or whatever amounts to it, typing away, without a plan, to someone he does not know.

"Just want to tell you how I'm sorry about my behavior before."

Now I feel really bad about deleting that comment. But I don't know. I should have, right? It's my blog is a flimsy excuse, but it is my blog, and I get to have a say what goes and what doesn't. And here I am, justifying myself, or I'm getting swept up by the song I'm playing on repeat as I read through it. "Proof". I Am Kloot. A simple song, with a simple video.

He is better off saying that to her, I thought, over and over again.

"I've changed my life. I stopped my drinking and changed my way of life. It doesn't mean that I expect anything. It means that I'm ready to have a cool relationship with you, if you can forgive my stupidity before."

Hey, could you stand another drink / I'm better when I don't think / It seems to get me through

I think back to the same questions I had myself. What happened then? I am, of course, not privy to it. Never privy to it. But, damn, what a tough deal for her.

But I must not assume.

"Maybe distance could make you more comfortable. I'll understand if I never have any reply. But take it easy. I don't want to disturb you. I just want to have some news about you."

Say, do you wanna spin another lie / Like we had a good time / Not that I need proof

I must not assume.

"My address is still the same. You can find it if you want. But I guess you'll not try to contact me. Anyway, wish you great times and a happy life!"

Swell, we're living in a hotel / Someone's ringing my bell / In a room without a view

We all try not to screw things up. We all do. We find ourselves in a great situation and we try not to screw things up. It's a sucky feeling, having to get around all these roadblocks just so you won't stumble... but you will. You will, somehow. Some are worse than others.

I remember thinking that I did screw this up after all that time. But now, maybe I didn't. Maybe it's just the way things go. People move on. People don't.

"...and forgive my stupidity when I was sad, drunk and stupid. I'll keep you in my heart and mind. Thanks for all the things you gave to me."

Hey, heard you read another book / Should I take another look? / Who am I without you?

One must not assume.

"Maybe - surely - you've forgotten about me. You are talented. I'm not worried for your future. It's gonna be better than mine. Kisses. Bye, babe. Wish you all the best."

Who am I to deny this man his moment of catharsis?


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