There was a time when I couldn't imagine myself loving anyone but Noah Flynn.
That's part of the reason why I went to Paris. I wanted to experience a brand-new world; a spotless world completely untouched by him. That way I wouldn't be tempted to search for him everywhere I went.
"Bye, Elle! Have a good time!" Lee waved at me from the gate, alongside my father and brother. I boarded the plane, traveling overseas for the first time ever. It was also my first trip alone, and let me tell you, nothing grows you up like being thrust into a new and strange environment with literally no one around to help you. But that's how I liked it- I wasn't doing so well these past couple of years and I wanted to get to know myself. Really get to know myself. And I know that sounds like a cheesy line but honestly, it's true. I came back a totally different person, and I've been her ever since.
But it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. One the about heartbreak- that stuff follows you…. even in Paris. I learned that the hard way. Paris was so beautiful, full of these gorgeous buildings and streets everywhere. I became so greedy those first few days I was there. I wanted to see everything, to soak it all in like a never-ending sponge. But I slowly realized that was simply impossible. I could see all I could, and then it flow through me like water. Instead of a sponge, I morphed into a bowl which was filled then emptied. It never felt like I was holding onto anything, but instead each entry left an impression on me. I could let it change me, alter who I am, without my clinging onto it. And I guess at some point, I realized I could do the same with people.
The hardest day I can remember was when I first arrived in France. I loved all the attractions so much, I wanted to share them with others. I eagerly bought a postcard at the Louvre and found a café near Shakespeare And Company to write on it. I purchased it without anyone in particular in mind to send it to. I suppose it would be for Lee; he'd appreciate it. I turned the card over and blanked for a moment, though I still knew I'd write it for Lee. My eyes widened however, as I glanced from Notre Dame down to see that my hand had scribbled a different name instead. Dear Noah…..
And so, from then on, I got into the habit of buying Noah postcards everywhere of interest I went. I'd always find somewhere remote and scenic to write on them. I always addressed them to Noah, but I never put down his actual address; I didn't know it anymore anyway. In place, I'd use the space to write even more, knowing he'd never read it. That didn't seem to matter- at least at first. It just felt like I was including him in all this beauty indirectly; there was so much here I wanted to show him….
I wrote and wrote, and I probably finished over twenty postcards. I told him about everything. What I was up to, how I was doing, what I'd seen and where I went that day- it went on and on. But after like the twentieth one, something strange came over me. There was a picture of Noah and his new girlfriend on Lee's facebook page; he'd brought her home for Thanksgiving that year. Heh, Thanksgiving- good memories there. But it just confirmed what I already knew: Noah had moved on, and I should do the same. Everyone told me so….. But I couldn't bring myself to let the flame die. I think a part of me was afraid that once it was out, it would be out for good, and… and I didn't want that. I still remembered….. I remembered how good it felt, loving Noah. It felt so good to love him; he was so easy to love. That detail, I couldn't forget.
But life must go on. For me, it happened one cool evening in late fall. The leaves had turned colour, and most had already fallen to the ground. It used to be an idyllic setting for writing postcards, but that too was fading. Still, I found a serene park bench to sit on. It was in the Champ de Mars; the same park where the Eiffel Tower was. I could see it from where I was sitting; it was at the other end of the way. Pretty romantic setting, or it should have been.
The park is beautiful this time of year, Noah. I wish you were here to see it with me so much….. The pen stopped in my hand. My lips parted a sliver as I stared down at the postcard's back for an endless second. I'm not sure why tonight was different; something just felt… off. There was this buzz all around me, an electricity in the air. It slowly, slowly dawned on me- I've written so many of these postcards to Noah, but never really….. How do I feel? How do I feel now? What am I going to write now?
With my pen still quivering in my fingers, I set it back down onto the white paper. Truth is, Noah, that I still always think about you. "What would you choose Berkeley, Elle? What about Lee? What about us?! That's the question you should be asking!" I've seen so much here, but nothing's quite distracted me from you. I remember… I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since we broke up four years ago. "How could you do this to me?! I thought you loved me, Elle! I thought you were the one!" It's useless to say, isn't it? "You were the one, Elle! I love you! I love you and you're going to throw it all away!" I can't tell you how many nights I've fallen asleep crying. I remember what he said to me….. They said that time would make it better. "Don't call me! Don't even look at me! I never want to see your face again!" They said that time heals a broken heart. "I don't care! I don't care anymore! Just go! Leave!" But time has stood still since we've been apart.
I can't stop loving you.
My pen stopped moving. I hadn't noticed the teardrops dripping down onto the paper. There I was, with tears unknowingly dripping down my face onto Noah's postcard. My head tilted up to see the Eiffel Tower; they'd be turning on the lights soon. For a moment, I did nothing; then I gently lifted my hand up to my watery eyes. My finger wiped a tear off my right eye and brought it back so I could see it. It glistened in the streetlight.
God, what the hell is wrong with me? Here I am, in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and I'm crying over my ex. I've cried so much these past few years; I'm sure the tears I've shed are countless. And for what? What's the point of all this pain? I've spent more time missing Noah than I did actually happy with him. All these years of missing him, wishing he was here again….. How long would it go on like this? How long would I still want him like this? This isn't fair to me; don't I deserve to be happy again? Can't I come to Paris and just enjoy Paris? How long am I going to live life dreaming of yesterday? I can't….. Noah, Noah….. Noah! There I sat, having one last good cathectic cry in front of the Eiffel Tower in the middle of Paris. That was one of the hardest nights of my adult life.
After that night, I threw out all the postcards I wrote to Noah. All except for one. I kept that last one, all stained with tears. On the front was a picture of the roses at Versailles.
Nugh, my head…. Why does my forehead feel so heavy? The sunlight woke me up the next morning. I have no memory of going to bed, but there I was, tugged into my bed with all my clothes from yesterday still on. I made the mistake of rolling onto my side, which only made my headache worse. Ugh, what happened to me? I can't remember a thing from last night. Well, up to the part of us talking about going to Busan- after that is a total blank.
Every motion hurt; it felt like a series of strings were connected through my body, and each pull rippled through me. It took my mind a moment- a lot of moments actually- to wake up properly. The noises coming from down the hall didn't help. I silently groaned at the sudden and headache-inducing noise. "Dude, don't go into her room!" "I already told you! I'm just going to check on her!" "No, man! Respect her privacy; she's a woman, for Christ's sake!" "There's nothing in there I haven't already seen. Just get off my back! I want to make sure she's ok. What if she needs us or something?"
Those voices….. I recognized them- both of them. One was Noah, and the other was Marco. It sounds like they're arguing near my room. Yeah, that makes sense; it is morning, after all. Ugh, I still have no clue what happened to me last night. Why do I have literally no memory of it and feel all gross and in pain this morning? I have a few theories, but none of them make any sense. "I said leave her alone! Let her sleep!" A bang from outside down the hall made me peak back at my door. Exerting what seemed like a lot of energy, I rolled myself onto my side so I could face the door's wood. Even in this delirious state, the irony was not lost on me.
Four or five years ago, I would have been over the moon to hear Noah's voice out there. I remember what that's like…. waiting tirelessly to hear him again, hoping he'll be speaking to me. And now, it's strange. I don't feel that way at all anymore, or at least I don't think I do. Maybe that's because I know the pain that accompanies its departure. I know the pain of missing Noah, and I wasn't willing to let myself to go through that again. My lips parted slightly. "I can't undo what I did, Elle, but I can try and make it better. Please, don't be so afraid anymore. I know you're scared to get hurt again, and you won't let yourself get attached….. But please…. You don't have to be afraid; I'm never going to let anything hurt you like that again." He did say that though…..
Am I lonely? Do I want to fall in love again? Do I smile to tempt a possible love? Or is it my way to hide a broken heart? There's so much I don't know anymore. It used to be so easy before they showed up out of nowhere again. But I can't say I'm unhappy now; far from it. Time has begun moving forward for me once more. I have a freedom now I haven't had in years…. It may not be wise for me to get into a relationship now, but I am free to. I am free to hate, free to love whomever I wish….. Exs or friends- the decision is mine. I suppose in that way, I am the luckiest girl in the world. My eyes lowered tenderly onto the closed door. "Dude, stop!" "You stop!" Listen to them both out there. Yes, I am free now, and incredibly lucky.
Many dreams have been brought to my doorstep.