The last message he ever sent me

“Z… I’m so sorry, I’m praying for you'“

I could have responded but honestly, I had made my peace with it all. He was sincere but it was too late. I had cancer. His words couldn’t save me. I didn’t want to connect on this level with anyone anymore, let alone him. ‘Pity’ only felt like toxic-positivity and I had already lived months and months with my own new reality. For him to find out months later about my diagnosis and to care felt both heartfelt and polarising. I didn’t expect him to message me at all, and I didn’t have the heart to message him back.

When we first met, I felt fresh and new, open to love, he introduced me to a world that was both exhilarating and intoxicating all at once. Partying and staying up all night until the sun came up, every weekend. Though it made me feel more connected to the world and the people around me, I felt withdrawn spiritually. People loved me more when they knew I was one of them. People treated me better when they knew I didn’t appear to be above them. They were nicer to me. The more I partied like them, the more I was liked. I knew that my success, was based off of ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’ and I was definitely joining them. Inside I hated it. But I longed to be someone else to forget about the control I was previously under. It was easy to forget about ‘me’ for a while. Only when I started to realise that my mental health was suffering from the past and my physical health was suffering with him, I felt I needed to change. However confused I was back then, him breaking up me was the best thing he could have done for me. It forced me to see myself for what I had become.

I’m not saying that he was the worst person in the world, that award was reserved for the wicked person before him. He was the person who saved me from them in the first place. I will forever be grateful for him for that reason. But it still doesn’t change how I felt in that moment hearing from him. I in fact felt nothing. No love, no joy, no sadness. Because I was already in a state of deep grief and choosing to put myself first, and to try to understand cancer and what it was doing to me - this was my only goal. Everyone else in the world could wait.

The last message I had ever sent him was to check in and to ask him to check on his dad. We had had tsunami warnings across New Zealand and where he lives, he was right by the water. I was genuinely worried for him - no response. What did I expect? He had a girlfriend who didn’t trust him and clearly he had blocked me for this reason. Which I both tend to agree was the right choice, but it was also a misinformed one. I loved him at a time I didn’t even love myself. So how could I have truly loved him? I feel he also held this same regret. We were both just holding onto each other by our fingertips. She had nothing to worry about - truly.

It’s been years now, 4 years. Would I respond to him even if he read this now? No. Not because I'm annoyed or angry or carry any kind of resentment. But because when relationships end, they sometimes belong exactly where they ended. What we had was beautiful, messy, and necessary. It shaped me and I’m sure he would say the same. Sometimes caring arrives too late and I’m not saying his care isn't real, it’s more to do with the fact that the person he was trying to reach, no longer exists.