It’s just because, it’s this way

I wish I could categorize my feelings into folders and put them away like I do my files on the computer. But they're not as neatly divided, or easily put away. I haven't been here this long, for very long, and it's hard to feel myself here. It doesn't help that my family of three shifted into this house during my first year of university. I've been here for at the most a few weeks since then. Living here for this long, in all its fanciness, bright yellow lights, imported Chinese furniture and long expensive curtains, feels artificial. I suppose that's one of the main reasons why, I clutched on to him like a hawk. Though I think, more like a vulture, circulating over the ruined carcass of our relationship, or what it became during the pandemic.

I don't blame him for losing it at me. I know I did at him, several times. Now that six months down, things are getting better and I'm getting used to this, I'm at a loss for why I did, what I did. I guess I felt alone. I have friends I can call, and my parents aren't the kind of people to deny me a talk or a hug. But it didn't help. I had lost my anchors, things that meant so much to me, were now meaningless. All of the hours of the day just wove into each other and there was no structure, no certainty, nothing I could rely on. I needed him, I really did, and I struggled to get him to understand this.

How did we go from, making breakfast for each other, waking up to each other, dancing and watching movies together cuddled under a blanket, to this? All of the prejudice, stereotype and maddening regulation of family life that college took me away from – making me feel small or like I am worth less because I weigh more, and men wouldn't want to marry me because I couldn't make myself some shades fairer, was all back. Everything I did was under watch and critiqued. Pressing my ear to the door and listening my parents scream at each other was a regular thing now. I think, he felt like the only certain thing, familiar thing, that I could hold on to. But he had his own shit to deal with. But when we're both dealing with shit, how do we be there for each other? Phone and video calls hardly made up for the extreme anxiety and loneliness caused by the pandemic and our now obscure futures.

I was independent, doing my classes. Visiting my boyfriend, reading, doing research and going out with friends, anything I wanted. And now, I was stuck at home, bound to rules and requirements I that I came to college to run away from. I'd leave seven missed calls, and I don't know why he won't call back. He needs me to understand what he's going through, but what do I do when his cure is isolation, and mine is being together? It's just because it's this way, he'd say. Normally, you know being together would make me feel better.

I was hurting for physical intimacy and doing what I could online, but he didn't want to respond because what he was going through didn't allow it. And it's not like my mind easily accepted that, before jumping through several what if(s) he doesn't want me anymore. It's just because it's this way, he'd say. Normally you know I'd like this. My heart breaks a little every day. I want to give him space but there is already so much space between us. We couldn't understand each other, our worlds were suddenly completely different.

His home wasn't much home either, like mine, newly shifted into when he was in college. I was looking for a home in him, I think. Which probably was not fair. We're all strangers to these times and coping in our own ways. I have nothing else to console me, other than telling myself that, it's just because it's this way. Normally, you know it would be different.

"Normally".