• clone your love for me

    by  • July 17, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Lost Love • 0 Comments

    Dear Ashley W.,

    My subconscious is torturing me with dreams of you once again. This time the dreams were different, they seemed to reflect a tiny bit of reality. I went to hug you, but the warm all encompassing bear hug I expected from you was thrown off by your height. You were much taller than you had been before. All I could do was awkwardly hug your legs while you looked down at me.

    I knew you were out of reach, but in my dreams you were mine, I could get an amazing hug from you and feel it warm me to the core, warm my heart, take the frostbite off that once slowed it’s beat. Now even my subconscious is coming around. I realize you can never be mine, but at least I had my dreams to take out the chill of not having you. The worst part is, I know nobody could ever be as great for me as you.

    You weren’t even you in my dream. You were distant and aloof. You said things that were very unlike you, and there was the constant threat of you leaving. I tried so hard to get you to stay. You had a willpower that was stronger than you have ever before impersonated. You were wasting away, growing smaller, soon to disappear. I desperately tried to keep you in my presence. I took you to the park for a walk, I showed you around my elaborate apartment building, introduced you to my turtles (you’re allergic to cats). After all these years, I am still trying to hold on to your memory, but more and more I can feel you slipping through my fingers, letting that lost empty bewilderment settle in. I feel like the void in my center is starting to compact my heart like a black hole, a vacuum. Can you please clone your personality and put it into someone who I am allowed to love in every way I want to?

    I wish I could go to you. I would have abandoned everything in an instant. But you don’t know that, and you thought I wouldn’t be happy. I would have been so happy with you, I know it. You were my everything, you bring out the best in me. I not only love you, but I love myself when I’m near you. Alas, you doomed me to forever wonder “what if?” I miss your musings. I miss your thoughts. I miss your sweet words. I miss your gentle heart. I miss your understanding, compassion, and empathy. I miss your advice. I wish I had a recording of the song you wrote for me. I know you attempted to give me closure, but I was not ready to let go yet, and you led me on in spite of yourself. Did you ever feel for me the way I feel for you, or was I simply fooled by your kindness? I wish the situation were less abstract. I’m attempting to mold it into form with my written words. I still feel just as confused.

    You stopped talking to me because it was too painful, because I was hurt by the thoughts of you getting married to someone else. I feared that I would not even be invited to the wedding. I thought that maybe if I got to see you in person one last time, the truth would come to me, it would all make sense and I would get the closure I most desperately needed. I banished you from my thoughts, but in the words of Amy Lee, “Who can decide what they dream? And dream I do. . . ” So I wake up in anguish, wishing the man next to me resembled you. A year and a half later, I finally contact you again, fearing you had already married her, and I lost my one chance to let you go, only to find out that the situation has become even more complicated. There’s a new little one involved.

    I thought I could finally handle you, abstain from my feelings for you, but your charm, I am helpless to resist. I just crave more of your sweetness to quicken my pulse like a sugar rush.

    I sometimes wonder if there were more like me, if you were just a serial heart-breaker. If I wasn’t the only woman who’s toes tingled at the thought of seeing you again. Was I simply blinded by the picture you painted in the canvass of my brain? Does it continue to shield your intentions? That thought is even more painful than the rest, because it brings forth the idea that I may not be as important to you as you make me out to be. At least I can find comfort in being the second choice.

    Please allow me my closure, and if you deem that inappropriate, at least clone yourself for me, so that I can once again have the love of my dreams.

    Yours only,

    Scarlett O’Hara

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