“Don’t you understand? You’re the other woman”
The Cruelty of Being the Reminder
There’s a pattern stitched softly through the people who cross my path: they arrive carrying a past that’s still louder than they admit.
At first, they appear steady,
as if they’ve folded their past neatly, stored it away,
and walked toward me with intention.
But somewhere between late-night conversations and half-finished confessions, it becomes clear:
I am not stepping into an empty room.
I am stepping into a museum of someone else.
A laugh that resembles hers.
A habit he hasn’t unlearned.
A pause that holds a name he no longer says aloud.
And suddenly, I am not a new chapter,
I am the moment he realizes his story wasn’t finished elsewhere.
There’s a strange kind of cruelty in being the reminder,
not the destination.
Not the person he chooses,
but the person who reveals who he truly wants.
I don’t know whether it’s bad timing, bad luck,
or simply the world’s dark sense of humor.
but somehow, I keep arriving at hearts that are still occupied.
And with every goodbye disguised as hesitation,
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a question grows louder:
Is there something about me that invites unfinished people?
Or am I just consistently late to the same story?
It’s exhausting.
to offer presence, clarity, patience,
only to discover they were never searching for me,
but for the ghost of someone who left.
People love quoting the idea about,
“Everyone is born in pairs.”
“Everyone is born with a soulmate.”
“There is someone for everyone.”
But mine?
I feel like the universe handed out matches to everyone else and skipped my name on accident or maybe on purpose.
Now, I’m not hopeful.
Not poetic.
Not waiting for fate to clean up its mess.
I’m just tired.
And I’m honest enough to say it.
One day, maybe, I’ll meet someone whose past is closed.
Not erased, not denied, but completed.
Someone who doesn’t measure me against someone else’s absence.
But until then, I will reclaim My pause. My silence. My distance.
Because I’d rather be alone than be the checkpoint on someone’s way back to their past.
