“There is something I want to know, and you’ve never given me a straight answer about this. Why did you dump me?”
“... I told you before. It kinda died for me. I started to feel different about the whole thing. It stopped feeling right. I can’t explain it completely it just happened I guess.”
“I don’t believe you. It’s been what, nine months now? You still think you don’t know? Tell me.”
“I’m serious. I don’t think about it that much you know. I just prefer to put things behind me.“
“Bullshit. You can’t keep anything inside and you’re a compulsive obsessor… I think you do know, and you don’t want to hurt me. I’m ready now. I’m over you. But I want to get to the bottom of what you couldn’t tell me. So I’ll ask again. What made your do it?”
“Many things.”
“Such as?”
“Well I’m not lying about feeling a different vibe. It’s just. Well. Ok it was many things. Ever since my relationship before you, I’d been on the lookout for someone else. You know being in love is a great feeling. I loved it. I wanted to return to it. I wanted to move on. So when we started going out, and everything was working out great I kinda rushed into it head first. I wanted to reach that stage again so badly. So I guess I kinda burnt myself out. Wanting it too much.”
“So you lied about being in love with me.”
“No I didn’t because I thought I was. I wanted to be. See I lied to myself.”
“Ok so what are the other reasons?”
“Well, see because I ran in blind I didn’t let certain things bother me too much. You were all over me you know. Always telling me about how awesome I was, and how you wished you could do half the things I did. I’m not special. I’m no renaissance man, and you kept putting me up on this pedestal.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did, and worse, every time you did, it was putting yourself down with that compliment. ‘You do all this stuff that I ‘cant do.’ Dude. And I even tried telling you about how that bothered me once, and you got all defensive about how strong you were and stuff. “
“Hey I’m not some wide eyed bimbo if that what you think I am.”
“No I never said that. I’m saying that you were trying too hard to appeal to me… Don’t you see? Look you came out of your relationship with someone that hurt you as well. You were constantly asking your friends to hook you up with someone. You wanted to move on. You made exactly the same mistakes I did!”
“No. I was really into you!”
“I’m not saying you weren’t necessarily. I’m saying I got turned off by the fact that you were trying so hard to make it work. Combine that with my realization that I was in a relationship because I had wanted to be in one so bad. I felt like I needed to get some time alone, get comfortable with myself.”
“Look if you wanted some time off that’s fine, but I was never dependent on you like you say I was. I wasn’t in awe of you like some god or anything.”
“Look. I’m not the only one who noticed it ok? Even after we broke up people were telling me how you were always trying too hard to appeal to everyone. But that’s not the issue. It just a way you were, and it bothered me ok? There is no right or wrong in this situation, it’s just a question of vibe and comfort. I disillusioned myself and you in the process. I’m sorry. But in my defense I think you also disillusioned yourself.
“… Ok fine. Anything else?”
“No that’s about it. I’ve been single ever since we broke up, and for the first time in my life I don’t have this overwhelming urge to find a girlfriend in everyone that I meet. I’m actually comfortable in my solitude. Sure I get lonely from time to time. Everyone does. But for once, I’m not obsessing. I’m not desperate. And I’m having fun!”
“So that’s it? You’re going to be alone for the rest of your life?”
“No. I’ve just stopped trying so hard. I’ll meet people, and eventually chemistry will act, a spark will happen, and something might ensue, just as it might break. Same as always really, but I won’t force the feelings next time.”
“So you never loved me.”
“I thought I did. And in my defense I think you did the same thing I did.”
“That’s not true.”
“Maybe.”
“…”
“You wanted the truth.”
“You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I even gave you the benefit of the doubt when you dumped me.”
“Look you’ll think about it some. And you will eventually realize that I’m not a bad person. Misguided, young, naïve, but not an asshole. You taught me a lot about myself and I’m grateful. I have no regrets.”
“Always about regrets with you isn’t it.”
“I live my life that way.”
“…”
“…”
“So I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess it is. Someday you will forgive me.”
“Perhaps.”

In the north, there is a little house in the middle of a wood, on a lake, covered with ice and snow. A small tendril of smoke eschews from a small protrusion perhaps about the size of a tin can of asparagus, or tomatoes. A soft wind sharpens the hint of a razor’s edge to the austerity, bringing the foliage to life as it shifts comfortably in its resting. It shakes the white powder onto the blanket at its feet, and with a great sigh falls into a deeper sleep. Such perfection is seldom witnessed by those who know how to appreciate the beauty of such moments.

If one should walk slowly and deliberately towards the man, made structure, one will hear the crunching of snow at one’s feet, as indentations are carved irrevocably upon the surface of mother nature; a testament to those who have passed previously. Footprints, sled-prints, perfect holes in the blanket where once a beer bottle resided, cooled by her breath. The path is worn and narrow, and difficult to navigate for the chasm between the two sides of ice was difficult to build in the first place. Passage through this place was obtained through the footsteps of those who have passed before, as if a quickening of erosion.
And as you reach for the golden knob on the door to the cottage, icicles fighting to grow one drop at a time as the warmth of the cottage feeds them fresh droplets of water, a smell of woodchips and tobacco fills the senses.