An Exchange of Keys

The final concrete steps of a breakup reminded me of everything that was wrong and that nothing had changed

Photo by Filip Szalbot on Unsplash

Journal, 27th of June 2026

Today we finally gave each other back our home keys and all the other stuff that had been accrued at each other’s homes. As it turns out, for me that was 5 pairs of boxer shorts and 4 pairs of socks, alongside a silver coloured Moccamaster coffee maker and a travel-sized hair dryer. Not to forget a snuggly hoodie that I wore in her cold apartment all the time.

I had prepared her things in a compactly packed cardboard box; she had considerably more little knickknacks strewn about my various cupboards. Apparently she didn’t like the box though, and opted to shove all of her things in her tote bag instead. Classic. Not to mention that she wouldn’t take all of her stuff. A small present I once gave her was apparently “not necessary for her to have”.

Oh well.

I’ve been waiting for some kind of cathartic feeling every day these past three and a half weeks, but I don’t think it’s coming. With every major step, such as when I told her I wanted to break up, or on days like this one, I expect to feel different in some revolutionary way. It’s not happening.

Or rather, it’s not happening quickly enough that it’d feel like something’s happening. The process of healing in the background is so quiet and slow that it is frustrating.

At the same time, I feel oddly validated in my decision to break up when days like these come. I saw the same pattern happening again; first we have a completely normal, neutral conversation over the phone to arrange the meeting, and then all of the face-to-face interactions feel numb and cold. The same story that happened way too often when we were actually together. I’ve seen her treat complete strangers with radiating kindness and warmth. That’s exactly what I fell in love with in the first place. But I don’t know why those closest to her get the coldest shoulder.

I’m not saying I’m without faults. In fact, I feel like I’m somewhat of a mirror in the company of others; their feelings and output tend to regulate both how I feel and how I act to a pretty big degree. It’s something that I try to live with to the best of my ability. But I’ve found can’t be happy in a relationship where my partner is a rock wall because that turns me into stone as well.

Because it’s never just presents or house keys or little knickknacks that you exchange in a relationship. You exchange feelings and memories and the happenings of the day — no matter how insignificant. It doesn’t all have to just be the good stuff, but you can’t craft arrows out of the bad stuff and shoot them at your partner like they’re at fault. And you can’t turn yourself to stone and expect your partner to caress you back to life. You’ll just end up as two statues in a lifeless garden, where love once blossomed.

I hope I remember that in the future. I don’t want these shared experiences — good and bad — to go to waste.