When you wish, pray, hope.
When you really want something, it seems that you become the most “you” possible. When you need help, a miracle, an answer, you become the clearest you’ve ever been. It’s a beautiful and scary place.
I don’t know who listens or who answers but it’s beyond me to think…
The truth is that I never thought I could fall out of love like this. Like every morning is a struggle to get out of bed because that thing you cared for so much…well I guess it isn’t being cared for much anymore. It was beautiful. It still is at times, I can see the tiny moments of relief and joy and accomplishment. But I guess all good things come to an end. It breaks my heart so much to know how amazing it could have been if only the real problems had been addressed. If only people saw things for what they were and stopped looking for distractions because distractions won’t cover up a problem. It will only become worse. I fell out of love because my heart broke for what I’ve been working for all these years. My heart breaks now because it was beautiful. And it still could be beautiful. I don’t want to go but time has run out and I don’t want to be self-destructive. I don’t want to hate anyone. I don’t want to be sad anymore. And I want to stop feeling helpless. Maybe it would be better without me. Maybe this was a dream I’ve checked off my list. Maybe it’s time to follow another dream. Maybe it’s time to fall in love with something else. It’s difficult but I have to be faithful and trust in the universe. So come what may ‘cause I’m gonna find my way.
I’m pretty convinced now who I want to be with even if it’s not meant to be. Right now I feel like there are two guys who I just…I just feel like they have my heart. I can’t explain how or why but I feel like anytime they ask me to, they can have it.
One is this guy from college that I’ve always had a complicated relationship with. I feel like he’ll always be there somehow in the recesses of my mind even I’m 45 or 60. If I get to 60. I told myself I’d stop being friends with him when he decides to get married because I can’t be near him. I can’t know him, I can’t be part of his life when he finally decides to settle down with whoever and have kids. I don’t want to be that girl he comes to for fun or whatever because lately…it still hasn’t gone away. Things still happen. I dreamt of him last night. I dreamt of us sneaking into a back room in a fancy furniture showroom to make out. Very college-y of us, making out in empty classrooms. Funny, I feel like he wasn’t the same guy from college. I feel like maybe he’s someone else. Unfortunately, he’s not. And unfortunately, I kinda love him in that resigned way, not like the way I may have did in college.
Rather unfortunately also is the fact that I dreamt of this other guy I met two years ago who I feel like I instantly fell in love with and to this day maybe hope he would come back. He won’t. I’ve prayed too much for him to come back and he won’t and I know that but I dreamt of him this morning. Him and his son. In my dreams, he still wasn’t talking to me. Odd.
I just wanted to write this all down so I could remember. A year ago my friend asked me, if I could have any guy to come back and love meand just be the one I’d end up with, I still said guy #2. Because I didn’t get to know him and I want to. Maybe I still do. She asked me why not guy #1 and I said it’s because he isn’t faithful and I wouldn’t want that. If he changed (which I highly doubt he would)….maybe. But still.
It just caught me offguard to dream of both of them on the same morning because they’re not even into me and I’m resigned to the fact that they’ll never be into me the way I want them to. It’s funny and amusing what your mind can conjure when you sleep. Only when I sleep.
And my heart was full, lying there in the dark in a different city with you on the other twin bed. Breathing, staring up at the ceiling like I did. Breathing, taking the night in, taking in the fact that we were finally alone, away from the crowd and we could be our own secret under the moonlight.
I reached out my hand from under the covers wordlessly. I knew you were just waiting. I could not say a word. I didn’t want to be the one to make the first move again, just like I did 11 years ago. But the gravitational pull was the same. I couldn’t remember clearly but it was still the same. I knew it was the same.
So you crawled into my bed and I took you into my arms and it was all I could ever ask for because despite the sadness, I forgot everything else. I was okay. And I looked at you and you were still beautifully flawed to me. Despite everything, I knew in this moment you were mine, as I was always yours. I couldn’t have you forever, but I could have you now. And at that moment, it was enough.
I understand it now, how you could never get it, how you could never get me because my love language is words and your language is silence. I get it now, how you could never understand the thoughts, the love I put into the words, the letters I made for you. And it’s okay, Pandora’s box of unread letters can stay under my bed and gather dust until they become a mere memory or a dream. Either way, they will be forgotten. You will be forgotten.
It’s your day and I didn’t expect it to be any different. Except that I thought about you a lot. I thought about who you were spending it with. I wondered if she called you to wish you a happy birthday. If your five-year old son spoke to you to tell you you’re the best dad ever. It breaks my heart to write this because I feel like I loved you. And you could have loved me. I just don’t know where I went wrong.
I’m still here. And I’m tired. And I wish it could be you who saved me. I wish it was you.
I want to know why I still think about you. Why it’s been two years with nothing and you’re still the one my mind runs to on default. I want to know why you ran away. Why I immediately saw a future for us that day I met you. Gross, self, you used to not write like this. But anyway. That’s the problem. It’s still you. You in my dreams every night right before I fall asleep. You in my every stale waking moment—wondering what you’re doing, where you are, who you’re with. I keep thinking about you and wondering if you think about me even if I know you don’t. It’s sad and pathetic, I know, but I can’t help myself. Not unless I know why. Which I wish you would tell me. I miss hearing your voice. I liked that about you. I like the way you whispered. And I like your eyes. I like your face. And I like that you’re tall and sort of a jock. I know I should stop doing this to myself—reliving the memory of you over and over and over again but I just….I loved you. In a tiny, little way, I did. And I knew you were messed up and I wanted to be the one to fix it. I wanted you despite your baggage. Despite how shitty you eventually treated me. I liked you that much to let it slide because I am an idiot that way. I shouldn’t be even stalking you. Or checking your profile. Or wanting to go to your house to just get it out of you because I know I’m in the wrong.
I think about you too much. I think about having dinners with you. Watching movies at home, huddled in the same blanket. Stealing a kiss. But nothing more than that because whatever I had for you or have for you is wholesome and….I wanted nothing more than a kiss. And your love. We could have been something. I could have been your anchor. I wanted everything. I still do. And I’m praying so hard for another chance. Because I really thought it would be you and I wanted it to be you.
I want us to dance in your living room to the music in your head, share a cigarette and your last bottle of beer and maybe when I wake, you’ll be the first thing I see and you’re gonna smile because you know I love you even if I don’t tell you. I want to wake up to your eyes in the sunlight because they’re beautiful and you’re beautiful and I used to be good at this, putting my thoughts down on paper but you’ve messed up the wires in my brain so I’m left to this. I’m an idiot for thinking it but I knew I saw a future for us the day I met you and I guess that’s what still bothers me to this day. I gotta give it up because whatever I had for you was pure and honest and you’re probably the only one I felt this way towards. Just you. And I wish you knew all the things I liked about you. Maybe you will someday. Maybe one day, all the letters I’ve written would finally get to the recipient. Maybe one day I’d finally get to let your memory go for good.