• Summer 2009

    by  • July 22, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Lost Love • 0 Comments

    Dear old friend,

    I can’t believe I’m writing this. It’s been quite some time.

    Yes, so, part of me hates you. I guess that’s to be expected.

    I spewed nonsense to you about what a connection I had with some ex-boyfriend, and didn’t even realize who I was talking to. I was stupid.

    I’m still young, but I have grown.

    I still remember the moment we met, and I know that sounds cheesy, but I can’t remember the exact moment I met anyone else, even those other boys who had their way with my emotions, much as I had my way with yours.
    For that, I am sorry. Terribly so. And I did the hardest thing to show it: I let you go.
    You were sitting on a friend or his brother’s bed when I arrived with my girlfriends. You were wide eyed and bright, and I sat down and asked who you were.

    I also remember the night you kissed me. I acted like I didn’t want to, but I remember it so vividly it hurts.

    Do you remember?

    I’m usually awfully shy, but when I met you, I went on and on somehow.

    Anyway, I love you. I still love you, and you’ll look back and say I used you and if you feel anything towards me besides apathy, so you say, it will be some sort of disgust or hatred, I imagine. That won’t change how I feel about our lost friendship, and I don’t regret telling you I love you, because it was true, whether or not you ever loved me.

    But, I suppose it’s better this way…

    And the things you say really are true. That is, If you forget the hours on end we spent talking when I was in another city. Every day. I still remember riding around, singing songs you hate, and your smile, and listening to all of your stories, because Jesus, they actually interested me, and I am finding that harder and harder to come by. Above all else, I think, I remember the hugs. You gave them best, absolutely.

    I told you everything. Everything. I don’t give that up easy.

    Do you remember jumping into your pool at night, and calling me crazy all the time? I remember late nights and Denny’s and eating soup while I spilled my guts to you, and I remember you caring.

    I could go on, but to my point.

    Though I love him, and we have a future together, and you are happy now with someone who gives you everything I couldn’t then, if I were to see you again, I might lose it.

    I know that will never happen; last we spoke you made it clear that you didn’t want to see me again, and that I only reminded you of bad things.

    That broke my heart into more pieces than I can ever remember it being in; because as you told me how you felt, I cried for my hopeless, blatant, stupid love for you. I sat alone in the basement awhile, away from my friends, because I didn’t want anyone to see me like that.

    (Because how can you say those things? We met at a low point for me, and you were better? You told me that you had reached a point in your life where you would have traded all of your friends in in a heartbeat, and I am so judged now? Maybe it is not just that you can’t forgive me, but that you can’t forgive yourself for the things you said to me and felt for me while you were with her.)

    I have my own apartment now, and a cat, and a friendly roommate who doesn’t bring problems or bad moods. I work, pay all my bills on my own, buy all my own groceries, am good to my boyfriend (though still getting used to being a relationship person, I’m still learning), and have nice friends with good hearts and a perfect lack of drama.

    So, maybe 19 year old me would have deserved to hear all of that, sure. I won’t fight you on that. But the person I am now does not deserve to still love you.

    But I do, and probably always will.

    And deep down, though I will never say so out loud, I hope and wish to see you again.

    Love,
    Me.

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