• the night air will smell of autumn and bourbon

    by  • February 11, 2012 • To You • 4 Comments

    I thought after time had passed it would just go away. But after two years, I just have to face the fact that a part of me will always love you. A part of me is always going to want to text you about something hilarious. I part of me is always going to get butterflies when I see your name pop up on my phone. A part of me is always going to sense you missing on the other side of the bed.

    I have come to terms with the fact that I am not the one that you chose. I have accepted it. But I can’t stop myself from letting myself feel that tiny ray of hope when you lead me to think that you want to spend time with me. I can’t help but let myself be reminded of that intoxicating high I felt every time I was around you. I can’t help but be transported to a time where nobody could touch us and every adventure was the best times of our lives. My mind wanders and I am instantly taken to the passenger seat of your car. It’s the middle of the night and you are singing at the top of your lungs. I hold tight to the bottle of wine as I gaze at the open sky. I breathe in the night air and think that there is nowhere I’d rather be than in that moment. I loved you so much that so often my brain doesn’t allow me to be reminded of all the horrible things you did and the pain that you put me through. I loved you so much that I put myself through absolute torture, agony and constant heartbreak just so I could still be around you. For some reason in my head, those few hours of pretending nothing was broken and letting myself believe it was still there for us was worth the next week of constant disappointment and utter heartbreak at the thought of knowing those feelings were being given to someone else.

    I may never know why you left. At this point maybe I really don’t want to know. For the past two years, I was absolutely convinced that you were going to come back. I was certain that you were going to come around and realize, despite all your other endeavors, your heart was always going to wander back to mine. I thought there had to be a reason that you always came back. There had to be a reason that no matter how many other girls you let love you, you were never going to be able to cut me out of your life. Who knows, maybe deep down you do feel this way, but I can’t continue to wait around for you to find it. I have spent the last two years of my life not only waiting for you but refusing to let myself live and be loved again. I know, without a shed of doubt, that if we gave it another go, and both of us really wanted it, we could have something really great. But that is not a road I am willing to take by myself and sadly, I don’t know if you’ll ever be at a point where you will be capable of giving yourself fully to someone else.

    I hope that when you think back on our time in each other’s lives you are not taken to a place of pain and lies or hurtful words. Instead, I hope you are taken to the place where we were the only two people on the face of the planet and nothing was going to bring us down. I hope you can remember the love. I hope you can remember what I remember. For now, I can only hope that one day my heart will let me stop loving you.

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    4 Responses to the night air will smell of autumn and bourbon

    1. dek
      February 12, 2012 at 8:36 am

      Could the irony be any greater?

      So many words written.
      “never…. seeing, hearing, knowing, finding, arriving”
      “sometimes….believing, wondering, worrying, hoping”
      “today…. trying, planning, plotting, changing”
      “yesterday…remembering, doubting, regretting, hating”
      “always……hoping, wanting, wishing, loving”
      Writing words never sent, neighbor to words never meant. Which ones are which? Only you know.
      Remembering. Re-living. Reviewing.
      Three steps forward and two back. Oh wait!….you see that? Your stride appeared to change. Oh sorry, nevermind. My mistake.
      Begging for something you’ll never allow.
      Blaming. Complaining. Ruminating.
      Writing letters not meant to be sent.
      to help yourself grow?
      The answer, as you know, is one only you know.
      I think anyway from what I can tell.


    2. J
      February 12, 2012 at 1:12 pm

      …I don’t quite understand. Are you trying to insult me? This letter was just an outlet. I’m not looking for a therapist…


    3. dek
      February 12, 2012 at 2:25 pm

      Mine? Or the post?


    4. J
      February 12, 2012 at 9:05 pm

      I’m saying that I don’t understand what you were trying to say with your comment. I was only looking to get some things off my chest. This was my outlet



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