Our time together was short. You made my summer incredible. Amazing. Indescribable. Affectionate. Unforgettable. But it ended as suddenly as it began. Five-hundred miles would have been possible, but 1600 is too far, right?
How could we keep talking when we knew it wasn’t possible. You and I could never be together. Not really. Yet, I let myself care for you and trust you anyway. The way you laughed and all those little habits you have that I would tease you about. I loved them all. You never failed to make me smile. And the thought of you continues to make me smile, even though I know I’ll never see your face again. Before I left you told me we could never talk again once I was gone. It would be too difficult for us, but I refused to believe it. I refused to shut you out of my life, and the urge to talk to you was too strong. So, we talked a few times, but a few times turned into too many times.
After just a few weeks, I knew deep down we had to stop. I could see how much it hurt you that we couldn’t be together. I was willing to work through the torture so long as I could hear your voice every once in a while, or if I could just send you a text telling you about the funny thing that just happened to me. But it was hurting you. You always were a “glass half-empty” kind of person, and I knew that from the beginning.
When you asked me what I wanted to do about the situation, I told you it wasn’t a fair question. What I WANTED and what we NEEDED were two different things. “We don’t REALLY know each other” you would say and I think that the idea of us staying in contact scared you. Your fear of messing things up was messing with your mind. I know you cared for me, but not only because you told me you did. I could hear it in your voice. In could see it in your face.
I told you that that kind of connection was rare but that we would find it again, just not with every person we’re with in the future. But I lied, I’m not sure it’s possible. In fact, I don’t think I will find that again. That doesn’t mean I won’t find something close, but I think you know just as well as I do that what we had isn’t something you find every day. I like to think you were lying to yourself when you tried to sound so convincing that we would find something similar in the future but with other people.
And on the night we last spoke, I couldn’t hang up the phone. You told me that I wouldn’t like what you thought we should do. And you’re right, I don’t like it, but I would’ve done anything to make it easier on you. So we deleted phone numbers, de-friended each other on all those social sites, and erased all traces of each other from text messages and pictures. We kept emails just in case we ever needed each other, and I fight the urge to contact you every day. I hate the idea that we will be strangers again. And I will wonder every day if we did the right thing. But who is really to know the answer to that? I just want you to be happy. And know that despite what you think, I will compare everyone else to you. You had that much of an influence on me. I wish we could have had the chance to REALLY be together officially. I would have loved to have called you mine. You will always have a piece of me, I just wish you could see that.
Thank you for some of the best times of my life. You changed me in ways you’ll never get to see now. I miss you so much. I’ll never, ever forget anything. I know you won’t soon forget me either, but you are much better at blocking things out of your mind than I am. So here’s the letter I’ll never send. The one that tells you how I can only hope that time heals all wounds, but that deep down I know there are some wounds that can affect us forever.