To be honest, she was the first girl I ever loved. I mean, I had had other crushes and stuff like that in the past, but nothing like this. However, before her there was another girl who I simply liked. When she told me she didn’t feel the same way, that’s when I found my first love. At first I didn’t know if I loved her. It was simple infatuation, just like before. Except this time, it grew into something more. She was there for me when I was hurting most, and Lord knows I needed someone to be there for me. When I was crying, I could cry on her shoulder. When I fell down, she would pick me up again. When I found a fault in myself, she would tell me that she loved that trait about me. At first, she was all I could think about. Nothing got between me and her. But then she came back again. The girl who denied me craved for what she no longer could have, and it made me itch, like a mosquito bite on a hot night. The question resounded in my head, “What if? What if? What if?” What if we were more than friends? What if I never dated the girl whom I love? What if this worked out the first time? That’s when I first started to fade away. I gripped onto my love at first as if she would run away from me, but eventually I grew comfortable that she wouldn’t leave. That she couldn’t. I started to follow curiosity, but just like the cat, it killed me. There I was. Balled up on the floor. Crying on the grown. I begged her to take me back. I begged her to forgive me for what I had done. I never cheated on her, but I might as well have.
A year went by and things were good. Well, they were at first. But just as before, I started to drift away begin. I had not been friends with the denier for the entire year, but then I told my love, “We’re just friends. You have nothing to worry about.” At first I wasn’t lying, but my truth grew into lies. There I was. Strike number two. She saw texts in my phone and just cried as I napped on her lap. I never cheated on her, but I might as well have.
This time it was a little harder. We struggled, but she took me back. She had lost any trust she originally had in me. Hell, I would have too; I can’t blame her. We argued about everything; we fought all the time. My friends would ask me what was the matter. Even my family questioned if I knew what I was doing anymore. Truth is, I didn’t. That’s when I drifted back to my old ways yet again. The same girl, different place. I never cheated on her, but I might as well have.
Strike three felt like I had just been hit in the head with the ball but didn’t get to walk. I was stuck on the ground. I still remember the day when my brother walked into the room, looked at me with a smirk on his face (he felt like I was getting what I deserved), and he dropped her ring right in my hands. He watched me as I sit there staring into my hands. I thought about her. I thought about us. And as these thoughts came into my mind, they ran out as tears streaming down my face. I went for a walk. In the cold bitter snow I fell to the ground as I went down the three steps. 1, 2, 3. Just like that I fell, crippled. I laid there for awhile until I got up and went for a walk. By the time I returned, my jacket was soaked with melted snow from my body heat, my fingers stung, and my face felt like it was no longer there. This was the last time I saw her for months. I was accused of cheating, lying, and intentionally tearing her heart in two. I was at a loss. I was hurt. More-so however, I was hurt because I hurt her. She attempted suicide that day, or at least she would have, in fact, she would have succeeded if the bridge hadn’t been closed. The relief that came over me was unbearable. I felt so terrible, but I felt free of the chains. I felt free that I could no longer hurt her. I walked off the plate.
Can you guess who I went to after that? That’s right. The girl who struck me out (however I am in entire realization it is no one’s fault but my own). This seemed to go well. At least, for the first month. It was bliss. She wrote me songs; I wrote her poems. It was only the third day when she told me she loved me. And I believed her, because I had known her so long. After that month was up, it went straight down hill. We fought, we made up, and we fought again. I have never had a more physically driven relationship in my life. Then just like that, it ended. I tried to mend my brokenness by a third girl. I thought she was amazing. Yet, she couldn’t help me either… so, there’s no point in telling that story.
After a few months, I texted her again. No, not the girl who denied me not twice, but three times, but my first love. To my surprise, she responded… I didn’t know what to do. The text that was fueled by past memories, saved pictures, and tears brought upon what I thought to be impossible. She actually spoke to me… That same night, I made my way back up to plate, except this time I knew it was my last chance. There I was, happy. Or at least, I thought I was. But then I met you. And no, at first there was nothing. Still I tell myself that there’s not. It was nothing but simple friendship. One night, I went over to your house at 11 at night; it was never the same. I saw you every day that weekend, and every day the weekend after. I never cheated on her, but I might as well have.
I told her that I needed to figure something out. I told her, “I need to find out if I’m in love with you, or the idea of being in love. I need to find out if I love you for who you are, or for what you do for me.” So there I went, I swung. She was hurt, but she said she understood after awhile. I honestly hoped that it worked, for I want to love her the way she loves me. Yesterday we went for a walk by the lake. We skipped rocks and got in the water. After we wrestled in my bed (yes, with our clothes on). It was the best part of my day, even after seeing you. I think it was that moment that I realized I needed to hit a home-run. Or maybe I already had, but I forgot to run. And there she is, waiting for me. Again. She has always been there for me when I needed her. Even when I let her down.
But tonight I won’t lie to you. I still think of you. I still find you attractive in ways I don’t even believe. You have a personality that brings joy to me every time I’m around you. Yet I know, that this can’t be. I can’t give up everything again. I’m afraid. I still dream about you too. The first dream that I just hung out with you. The second where I had my hands on places that they shouldn’t have been. And the third. The third I remember because it happened only yesterday. You told me about a cut on your back that night. I told you I wanted to see it… I have some sick pleasure with leading you on. In my dream, you showed me. I cleaned your cut then gave you a massage, first around the cut, then your full back. The massage led to more. I have never cheated on her in my life, but I might as well have. So here I am writing this letter. To be honest, you may end up being the one that got away, but I pray, that the one that got away isn’t as good as the one that always stayed.