October 27, 2016
I shamelessly admit to the fact that I can’t get you out of my head, and that I haven’t been able to. Even after almost a year that you and I have had any real sort of contact-at least the kind of contact we were used to having. I admit, I check my “personal” inbox more than I should, hoping that I may hear from you. Not knowing what I would do if I really did see a new email from you. I don’t know how to escape you, and part of me thinks I don’t really want to. How did I leave behind everything we built? How could I have given up? How has this much time passed, and I feel like you could come in and break down my walls almost instantly? Most days I’m okay, and I’ve gotten used to your absence now. Most days, you flicker in my mind, and you pass just as quickly as you came. And then there are days, or weeks, like the past few where everything I do seems to remind me of you. Where I remember that I didn’t write in books until I met you. Times that I remember that certain songs I play in the car will only ever have a significance to you and I. Pieces of artwork that immediately make me think of you.
How do you quit someone that became essential to you? How do you sleep at night not knowing how their day went? How do you stay without hurting yourself anymore? How is it possible to love someone so much, despite an immense amount of hurt, and even worse disappointment? Love. That’s how you quit. Love. That’s how you sleep. Love. That’s why you didn’t stay. Love. That’s why you forgave. If I didn’t love you as fiercely as I do. I could not have done all of these things. If I did not learn how to love this fiercely because of you, I could not get through my life.
You had such a huge space in my heart for so long. I ask myself all the time, how dare you make her leave? You were the one person I was never supposed to quit. I was supposed to fight for you. But I always told you, “I’ll only fight for you as long as you let me.” Even if you did want me to fight for you, I had no way of knowing. It’s supposed to get easier with time, and that’s what I tell people-myself included. Ten months, and this isn’t any easier. Ten months, and I think about you just as much as the day I walked away. I think of you just as fondly as I used to. I’m supposed to love you forever, and I think you’re supposed to know that. I don’t ever want to know what it feels like to stop loving you. Sometimes I don’t know if I walked away for you or for me. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I stayed. Would you finally have chosen me? Would you have let me in? Who would I be to you? Would your friends know me?
And then there’s the final question. Will I ever be a part of your life again? Something I shamelessly hope for. I want to know how you’re doing. No hiding, no shame, no lies. Will I ever be your friend, or more than that? Will these minds be given the chance to meet again? To explore? To learn the new parts about one another that we missed? Or will we be left guessing and wishing the best for one another?
I will love you,