Another letter unsent

I think there’s always going to be this part of me that wishes I had never met you or gotten close to you. You’re only three years younger than me, and I’ve only known you for around eight months now, but for at least the past four of those months, I feel like the feelings I have towards you are not feelings I should be having towards anyone except my (potential) future kids. And as much as I adore you, you scare me sometimes, because you’re just so innocent and vulnerable. It’s frightening to worry so much about another human’s well-being.

That’s not what’s bugging me right now though. What’s particularly bugging me right now is whether or not you’ll still be the same person you are by the time you graduate in three years. Because we need more people like you out in the world. We need more people who are thoughtful, creative, inquisitive, imaginative, wise beyond their years, quirky, kind-hearted, silly, and sensitive. And a lot more adjectives that describe you that I’m probably missing. I have no doubts that if you can make it to college, you’ll be all set. But high school, even a nurturing high school like ours that suits you perfectly, can absolutely beat those things out of people, and the idea of that happening to you makes me really sad. (Oh, and let’s not even get started on the even more terrifying fact that you might switch schools sometime before your senior year, for whatever reason, and end up at a place that eats you alive.) Studies show that you only need one person in your life who gets you in order to have the confidence to stay who you are, but I’ll be graduating in just over a month, and being three grades above you, I’m not in any of your classes, and so I don’t really know how most of the other freshmen treat you. So is there someone else who gets you? If there isn’t, then how are you going to get through high school with the essence of yourself in tact?

And the worst part of it? I’m not even really going to know if you maintain your integrity or not throughout high school. Sure, I’ll come back and visit, but not for more than a day at a time, and not enough to get a sense of it. All of this came up because a friend of ours made a passing joke about how he was corrupting you. Well, if it were my choice, he would do nothing of the sort. But it’s not my choice, and I know that. People say that if something’s not in your control, then there’s no reason to worry about it, but personally I’ve never understood that advice. The fact that it’s not in my control is exactly why it’s so stressful. If there was something I could do to make sure you could always maintain that core of yourself, even without me around, don’t you think my mind would be much more at ease?

So, to sum it up: You are an utterly amazing person. I hope that you never change the way you are, but at the end of the day, all I can do is hope that. And that’s scary. So despite how happy you’ve made me throughout this year, sometimes I wonder if all this anxiety is worth it. And on top of that, I’m going to miss you. Either way, I am still in disbelief right now that I was stupid enough to make any all-new friends my senior year of high school.

I’ll avoid the word ‘sorry’ as as you said I over used it, even though it was from the heart each and every time  Instead I’ll just put across how I actually feel for once, something you didn’t think I did often enough….

So, nearly two years down the road now; it’s still here, you’re still here.

I thought by now it would be gone; that sinking feeling, that heavy, crushing feeling. It can be sparked by anything; a song, a picture, a faint resemblance in a crowd, a park bench and for some reason most commonly; on a bus. I can’t even hide in my own room, it attacks anywhere and at anytime… that dark, heavy, crushing feeling.

As I write this letter I’m the opposite side of the world; this is madness how can I ever escape this overwhelming sadness, apparently not through distance that’s for sure.

As I said, it’s still there; lingering, lurking, smirking.

Is it still love that’s got me trapped? or is it guilt, regret, longing, loneliness  I’m pretty sure it’s one of those ‘all of the above answers’. Whatever it is it manifests itself as an image, a sound, a smell, a touch, a taste of you.

I know you don’t get it but I really did what I did to protect you; to keep you away from me and the pain I caused. Not the everyday me but that selfish prick I have somewhere inside with no regard for anyone or anything that likes to rear his ugly head when I’ve had too much to drink. Fuck that guy.

I hurt you, I hurt you bad and believe me I am still paying for it, I have been ever since I made that choice to drink too much at that stupid party with those stupid work colleagues that weren’t even really my friends. I know that’s why I drank too much, to overcome my social shyness, I thought it would improve night, not fuck up my life. Ironic aye

You have no idea how many times I wanted to call you, to see you, to touch you but I had it in my head that I had to burn that bridge to keep you safe and away from me, me and my tendency to get blinding drunk and kiss other girls… what’s that saying…once a mistake, twice a habit. I’m not sure if it was self destructive or selfish to end it the way I did but I full heartedly believed it was best for you, I knew it would be hard for both of us but I thought it was one of those ‘greater good’ decisions. I didn’t deserve yet another chance and you certainly didn’t deserve the pain I handed out, breaking up was the only way to secure this, the only way protect you….. Oh yeah apart from quitting drinking…. that says a lot about me; the fact I gave up the best thing in my life because it was easier than not drinking…. a problem or just pathetic? Again ‘all of the above’

You really did mean the world to me. Funny how someone can make you the happiest you’ve ever been but also the saddest, but i guess it was my doingbut still ….it’s you that I miss.

But what can I do? You’re happy; new man, new life. I’m not going to be the creepy ex or even slightly upset your happiness, that would go against my reasons in the first place. No I guess I’ll just wait it out, wait and wait and wait…. but for what? Will this feeling just depart one fine morning? Will I one day just never think of you again Will I be able to listen to drum and bass again and not think about you dancing along or wiggling your finger like you did…… I just don’t know.

What really gets me is we were only together for a short time when compared to many relationships, but it’s the most defining relationship in my life. It feels like we were always together until we split, every moment stuck in my head on repeat, the laughs, the smiles, the dancing the embracing. 

I’ve seen girls since but nothing is right, nothing has even been close so I just go cold pretty quickly…. what’s the point wasting their time and my time if I’m still thinking of you every day? That’s not fair, that’s not right so I guess I’m better off alone until I think I’m fit for a relationship, until I know for certain that I will never make similar mistakes, until I know I can move on.

That said, since we split my confidence has gone, you were what held it up, you were what held me up, made me happy, made me proud, made me positive. You were always there for me, despite my mistakes and you know I was for you too…other than that horrible mess I caused.

Will I ever find that again? …Probably not….Does that mean I am stuck with this constant longing to see you smile, to hold you close, to smell your hair? Well I can’t see it going anywhere…..

Yesterday I cleared all the photos from my phone as I was out of memory. The very first ones taken were of you, remember that sexy red lingerie you bought and that dressing gown I got you for Christmas. You looked incredible, subtle, sexy and innocent all at the same time. I remember the time we spent in that flat like it was yesterday despite it being nearly 2 years now. The smiles, the laughs, the funniness, the weirdness… the pure bliss of doing nothing but it was nothing with you…. Anyway there not on my phone anymore, I probably should have removed them time ago… but I just.. didn’t. Maybe it’s the sign of a new time for me, or maybe those photo spaces will remain empty from now on….

Talking of photos, I realised last week that you have untagged every single one of us together… that really hurt… but what do I expect, you’ve removed me from existence just as it felt I had to you. Fair play… if only you knew.

No matter what, that time we spent together was special to me, even though I tainted it by my mistakes. You think I’m someone else and that it was an act of being happy with you but that was truly me, down to the core.. in love…in bliss…euphoric. Half of me wants to forget, to unburden this weight of guilt and longing, but the other half never wants to let go. I don’t want to erase you from memory, even if I could.

If there was one thing I could change, one moment I could re-live it would be that f***ing party where I kissed that girl, I still don’t even remember it happening which gives such a feeling of WHY!?! But would changing this incident, change the final outcome? Or would it just have prolonged it? Or should I have just told you straight away rather than waiting until the 2nd incident? If you had known then maybe you would have kept me in check and none of this would have ever gone any further… but you shouldn’t of had to.

Either way, I don’t regret telling you, you deserved none of that crap that I put you through and you certainly didn’t deserve being lied to, it ate at me every second of everyday. The guilt, the self loathing. I so much wanted to be that perfect boyfriend for you, to make you happy, to take you places, to show you things, to make your life better than it could be with anyone else. Again… Ironic

I’m not sure what writing this spiel will achieve; unloading? Forgiveness? Self pity? I have no idea but it just felt right putting pen to paper. If you ever saw this you would be surprised as it turns out I can show my emotions, even if I’m not always good at putting it into words and saying them, the feelings are there… it’s just expressing them that I find difficult I guess. Has it helped? F**k knows…..

What is clear is that I miss you, I really f***ing miss you. It kind of feels like you’ve died; you were my best friend, the only person who truly got me. I should have lived with you when you suggested it but I already had the guilt on my shoulder, believe me I would have jumped at it if things were different. I should have married you, I should of had kids with you… you would have made an amazing mum and an amazing wife.

But instead I’m here ‘following my dream’ on the opposite side of the world but all the time wishing I was back home, back with you. I dream about you nearly every night, its crazy, its great and its terrible… either way it’s just dreams I guess.

Anyway, I’ve unloaded a fair bit. I’m pretty sure you’ll never see this… I’m pretty sure you’ll never see me again but I am glad you’re happy, you deserve it. It’s worth the pain to know that your life is better for it, take care.

I vaguely remember us talking about the state of humanity over cheap streetside dinner two nights ago.

I think I went off on a tangent there, ranting in short sentences about how the world isn’t getting better because of all the ignorance floating around, until you pointed to yourself and asked “like me?”

I fell silent.

Earlier that day, you told me you wouldn’t be joining the campus elections. 

Earlier today, the election results came out. They’re not what I expected, I admit, but winners are winners.

I read about this year’s turnout.

If I’m not mistaken, only half of this university’s twelve thousand students cast their votes today. I understand how several of us have jam-packed schedules and thus not much time to queue at our precincts, but then there are people like you.

I look back on that streetside dinner and I can’t help being a little pissed at you. You weren’t truly ignorant—you acknowledged what was going on, so maybe you were just lazy. I just wish you (and maybe the other six thousand) cared a little more to not knowingly do nothing. We’ll be entering the real world soon, and we might as well already be immersed in it. Plus, it’s not like humanity’s completely hopeless at the moment. That’s supposedly why our university exists, is regarded as one of the country’s beacons of hope, and is known for its tendencies to speak up and spearhead things. But if our university is also filled with people who stay quiet and resign themselves to the tides…

hi, dad.

i know. you ARE still alive. you’re actually lying down asleep next to me as i’m writing this.
but you’re not there. it’s just your body. alive, but helpless.
i remember when you used to take me for long drives upstate and we’d go to those undiscovered antique stores. on the way home we’d stop by a small café and get apple cider donuts for the way home.

and sometimes you’d take me to an arcade or carnival where we’d secretly waste all the money mom gave you to spend. I’d come home with a huge stuffed animal you’d have won for me.
I’d tell you everything. everything my mom or friends wouldn’t know. things about my personal life, about school, and about my dreams. you’d remember all of them.

you were my best friend.

but it all changed when you got a hernia operation in your stomach.

the doctors discovered cancer in your stomach.

and it was there for quite a while.

this left you immobile, not able to do the things we used to do.

i still talked to you like i should. i kept telling you everything, and i kept telling myself there was hope. and that it wasn’t so bad.

but another month passed. you were getting worse.

much worse. you can barely stand, and we had to bring a visiting nurse almost every day to make sure it didn’t get too bad.

but it is.

the last day you were mobile, you talked to me about death.

your death.

the last sentence you told me was

“I’m gonna miss you, little bear.”

little bear.

you called me that since i was born.

now, you can’t do anything with me. you can’t walk. you don’t even talk anymore. and when you try, we can’t understand you.

I’m scared of you.

you scream and cry in pain every day, and it scares me a lot.

I’d go to my room and cry and cry in the corner.

I’m at the bottom of everything now without you.

and what kills me inside is that you’re still here.

you’re still here, but you hate every second of it.

you’re still here, and in the worst pain i could ever imagine you in.

i don’t want you to die.

but we all know and understand the time is coming fast.

but you’re here for now, and there’s nothing i can do for you.

and that’s why I’m writing this to you.

daddy, i miss you.

Love,

Your little bear.

Look, I know that you’re a guy and I’m a girl, and it’s obvious to me that that’s an issue for you. But gender roles aside, I still truly care about you. I care about you a lot more than that guy whom, much to my dismay, you call your best friend despite the fact that he nearly bullies you sometimes. I think he’s a nice guy overall, but I can’t stand the fact that you think he’s the only person who wants to be around you. Because he’s not!

I know you don’t have many friends, and that makes me sad. Look, when I met you five years ago, you were this obnoxious kid that made jokes all the time and got told off for them. And I was the one who figured that being told off so often must not have been very fun, which is why I didn’t. I humored those stupid jokes. And we teased each other as friends for the rest of the year, but then at random times you would be genuinely nice to me, just out of the blue. And I really did consider you one of my main friends.

Then we were on different campuses for a year. But by the time you were a freshman and I was a sophomore, you weren’t obnoxious anymore. You were just sad and sulky and so obviously lonely, and yet your face lit up whenever you saw me. And I cared about you, and we had lots of good moments that year, but I didn’t give you much thought. Regardless, it bugged me that everyone else only complained how obnoxious you were. You had changed, even by that time. Why didn’t people see that then? Why don’t they see it now, when you’ve come even farther and are basically the most genuine, gentle-souled, kind-hearted person in existence whenever you talk to me? I don’t know why, but it makes me really sad.

As for your sophomore year and my junior year, things were obviously quieter then. I avoided you for about two months after you blocked me on Facebook towards the end of the summer (which also was saddening to me; I promise, if you ever do unblock me, I will never comment on those “comment if you think I’m a good friend” status messages ever again. I truly didn’t mean to embarrass you), but we had one or two nice conversations, and I remember how happy you were when I wished you a happy birthday. But I also remembered you telling someone once that the aforementioned guy was pretty much your best friend. And again, that made me annoyed, especially now that I’ve spent so much time with both of you this year and have seen just how awful he really is to you.

Don’t get me wrong, I do want to be your friend. Very much. But I’m also graduating in four months, so that’s not going to help you that much. Just please, promise me that I won’t be the only person to sign your yearbook this year. I don’t like seeing you so sad all the time; you should smile more often. I just wish you were happier, that’s all.

You don’t know how much you mean too me. You’re my only actual real friend that has stuck with me throughout these past three years. I miss our sleepovers, when we would watch Bridesmaids and just kill ourselves laughing, go on omegle and look like total tool bags, or our midnight walk around towns, and we’d just talk about all of our problems.I miss those days. I sometimes wish i didn’t leave you in this trashy town.. i wish i stayed with you until you left.. i wish we didn’t drift apart, you’re the only person that truly matters to me in this life. You’re my bestfriend, my other half. It hurts me every day knowing we won’t ever be the same. It hurts every time we talk, trying too push ourselves into becoming friends again.. the sad thing is, we both know we’ll never be the same cause we’ve both moved on. Although we aren’t as close as we were before, i never want to lose you, you’re always going to be my number one bestfriend. Forever. Love you Sully <3

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fucked up and I’m sorry I trusted someone I knew I couldn’t. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I was scared. I’m sorry I was stupid. I’m sorry I never said sorry. I’m sorry I never even told you how I felt. I’m sorry we can’t go back. I know it’s been a while but I still think of you a lot and I still love you a little bit even though we never speak. Today when we were both walking on the block to school from different directions I saw you slow down when you saw me walking towards you and it just made me remember knowing you. Talking to you until 2 am on school nights and staying up all night talking to you on the weekends, the month I sent 6,500 texts, the months I spent with butterflies in my stomach every time I thought of you. The day you asked me out I didn’t even know what was going on. I completely shut down and didn’t know what to do. I thought I was too fat for you then…I thought I was fat and I was a size 00. I didn’t think I was good enough. Everyone in the grade was prettier. V was prettier. Who could even love a girl like me, I thought. I’ll never be good enough, I thought. Every day after that in class you sat on the other side of the room. I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. I thought you hated me. But I missed you like hell. I hoped one day you’d talk to me, but of course I was too scared to. When I signed up for the same language camp you told our class about there was a reason. When A told me you asked where I was because you knew I was supposed to go, I killed myself over it. I should have gone, but by the time July came around I was in full-fledged eating disorder mania. I couldn’t go. I was scared. I wasn’t good enough. Then sophomore year we were in the same math class. And every day I hoped you’d see that I still missed you. I saw the spark in the occasional shared eye contact. It sounds so silly but I promise it was there. And that time we worked together one day solving problems in class. No one knew how to do it but I thought I did and tried to explain it to you guys. You kept trying to show me how you thought we could do it and wrote in my notebook. We laughed together and it was almost like it used to be. But that lasted 30 minutes and went away forever. I don’t want to leave this school without closure. That’s what I need and all I want. I need to talk to you but I don’t know how. You’re different now; you’re not the same guy I knew back then. But then again, I’m not the same girl. And maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be anything more. I don’t know. I just want to know if there’s still something left.  Even friendship would do. There’s still a place in my heart for you if you want it.  I don’t think it’s ever going to be filled. 

My last message to jacob: You are not the man I thought you were. I have made excuses for your behavior for years, blaming the stress of your job. But they were just excuses. You are selfish, cruel, cowardly, and rude. You are disloyal, unreliable, a liar and a cheat. You have broken my heart, destroyed my life, and left me to pick up the pieces alone. While you run off to create a new life with her. You are a bad person, because good people don’t do these kinds of things. You left me when I needed someone most, and I can never forgive you for that. I regret ever marrying you and having children with you, because now I am stuck dealing with you, a complete and total selfish asshole, for the rest of my life.

Dear Mommy,

Dear ….

It’s been three and a half years now. I miss you every single day. I wish I could see you. Can you see me? Can you see the pain my siblings are going through because you killed yourself? I just wish you were here. I wish they had their daddy. They are just friggen babies! You never even met your youngest baby girl! They are the most precious things in my life, I hope they never grow up to feel the way ou felt. To kill themselves like you killed yourself. I wish you were still alive. They need you so much :(

Dear D,

I wish that we were just friends from the beginning.

I wish that you can open your heart to me so that I can be there for you, when you need someone to lean on to.

I wish I could stare at you long enough to know the colour of your eyes, hold you tight enough to feel your heartbeat that makes you cry.

I wish that you’ll laugh and smile all the time.

I wish that I can make you happy, whatever it takes.

I wish I’m that somebody in your life.

But heck,

I wish that I wouldn’t have to wish for you.

I wish that I would not fall for feelings that I have for you.

I wish that I’m strong, tough like when you’re not with me when I need you.

I wish that I’m not worried when I heard that something happened to you.

I wish that you’re no one to me, like I am no one to you.

I have missed you for as long as I knew..

You. It has always been you.

Without reasons.

May it be now, years ago, and the future to come, it’s just because of you.

Sometimes,

I wish that we never happened, so I don’t have to suffer like this ever since we’ve meet.

But I wish that you had the time of your life when we were together, because I know that every single time I see you, you’ve been the sunshine of my world.

Where did I go right to have you with me.

I wish that I know the answers.

I wish that I could let you go.

Instead, I wish that you were here.

I can’t help but to say goodbye,
and wait for you to give me your heart,so that I can love you the best that I can.

or else,
you can just, please.. just give me back mine.

-N

Dear Y,

I don’t even remember your name. Not that I ever knew your last name to begin with.. Sounds dodgy, I know, being that you were the house owner, and I was the tenant, and we both lived under the same roof for a little while.

Sounds dodgy, too, that you were in your late 30’s, going through a separation (divorce? I don’t even know), and renting your spare rooms to two teenage girls. I don’t remember the other girl’s name, either, if it’s any comfort.

It was weird when the other girl burst into my room to tell me that she thought you were acting really strange, and that you were demanding that she would talk to you, and that she was afraid of you. As far as I could tell, you were just trying to have a conversation. She moved out that weekend, if I recall correctly. Then it was just you and me in the gloomy house. Sounds dodgy, but it wasn’t.

I’m sorry I wasn’t more sociable. I’m sorry I was absent a lot, and when I wasn’t I would hide in my room. I’m sorry I never made an effort to be your friend. I was too wrapped up in my own problems with no capasity left to help you with yours.

I guess I should try to explain. I had been disowned by my parents a few months before I moved into your house. I had called the cops on my abusive father for beating me up and threatening to kill me. He’d done that all my life, but I guess I just finally snapped (or grew a spine?) at the age of 19. He got carted off by the police, went to court, got off with a fine and some anger management classes I think…

My mother chose to stay with him. Since we were all recent immigrants, she didn’t really have the support network or the financial stability to look after herself, me and my sister on her own, so she stayed with the abusive asshole. She was so mad at me for rocking the boat and breaking up the family…

So here I was, with no relatives in the country who would have me, no money, no place to live, no friends who were in a position to help me much.

I stayed at a friend’s house at first. He was my best friend, I guess. And when he wanted to have sex with me, I was thrilled, I really was. Except, I felt that I was too upset at the time to jump into such things (I was a virgin still), and I asked him to wait. He was willing to wait for exactly 48 hours before going off and sleeping with another woman, and asking me to move out.

I lived with another friend for a while. Well, his mother, actually - he was living away from home. It was her, me and another boarder, and things were great for a while. Then the son moved back home with his new girlfiend and her kid, and I eventually got asked to leave, and moved into your house.

I liked living there with you, or at least as much as I could like anything at the time. The rent was cheap, and I could even afford it on my crappy student loan living cost payment. It was pretty close to town. You left me mostly alone, which I was greatful for.

Eventually you said you needed to sell the house, and that I should find another place to live. I asked a few friends, and one had a place I could rent (his parents ran a boarding house/caravan park kind of thing..). Anyway, I basically got a text sayng they would be there with a truck for all my things in an hour… I’m sorry I moved out while you were not home. I was not in a position to wait. I’m sorry. I left a note with my number, but you never called. That’s ok.

Mostly, I’m writing this letter to thank you. Thank you for the cheap rent, for not prying into my past, for showing me (without trying) that there were still decent people out there.

I hope that you are happy, that your life is better than it was then. I hope you are not lonely.

I bet you never even think of me, but in case you do, I’m well, and my life is wonderful. I have somewhat mended my relationship with my parents. I have a wonderful partner. We bought a nice house together.

It

I wish you every happiness there is.

And finally I guess I want you to know, I saw that you were lonely. I saw that you were suffering. I wish I had said something… But when my depression got so bad that I was going to end my life, it was the thought of you finding my body that stayed my hand. I couldn’t stand thinking of how it would upset you, finding your odd little tennant cold and dead without explanation. And so I am still here, thanks, I guess, to you.

I don’t think you will ever know just how much good you do just going through life being a nice and decent human being.

Regards,

The quiet one.

Dear Kitty,

I probably shouldn’t address you that way. But I can’t possibly think of another name for you right now.

I’m in the middle of a million things. I do have a million things to do. But I can’t. Not right now. I HAD to write this. I should have written this letter, a long time ago. But words don’t come to me easily. I’m no writer! Certainly not a journalist. No, I don’t speak in convoluted terms and I would never do that to baffle any listener, not even to your sister.

What do I tell you, that you don’t already know? That I painfully think about you all the time? That you are the last thing I think about every night, before I fall asleep, and the first thought that comes to my mind as soon as I wake up. I think about you when I’m working, when I’m at the movies, when I’m talking to my friends, when I study, when I prepare for interviews, when I wait for the interview to begin, and as soon as the interviews end. My eyes well up every time I think about you. I cringe on the inside when someone mentions your name. I google you perpetually (found videos which I’m going to forget that I ever saw). Found pictures that never should have existed, found stuff which you never should have done. In spite of all that, I fervently save them all. I love looking up on the internet for any news about your movie, which is incidentally getting released very soon. I’m so happy about that. I never thought I will be, but I am. So much of hard work went into it, no?

It’s been 2 months and 21 days since I last spoke to you. It was over the phone. You were shocked, a little angry and mainly uncomfortable with the fact that I was in love with you. We spoke for 42 minutes. Actually longer than that, because you were swearing and I was hanging up, a lot! The next day, when I was at work, I got a text from you. The familiar thrill when I see that you had called or sent a text. I would give anything in the world to have that back. You asked if you could leave, I said ‘yes’ and you thanked me and left. I was fine then. For a minute, at least. Then the familiar feeling washed over me. I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. That was the first time I felt real physical pain in my chest. I remember it, because I wrote it down right away. I also told myself that it will be okay. But somewhere deep down, I knew it won’t be. It wasn’t the usual fight where we say good bye and be back again. I was in love and you knew it, and it meant you’re not coming back. I came back home sick. I thought fevers are caused by viruses and bacteria, not by fights with your boyfriend! Oh wait, you weren’t and you’ll never be. The boyfriend, I mean. I lost count of the numerous times I was down with fever, every time we broke up or had a fight! Beats me!

Yes, you have tried to contact me after that, but I couldn’t go through that again. I can’t possibly go through the worst day of my life again. I’m being rational. I’m listening to mom and my two best friends. But there has been a huge communication gap between my heart and the brain. The heart has absolutely no idea about the decisions I have made. That I’m moving on. I really am. The stupid heart yearns for you. Only you. Nothing can make ‘it’ happy. Not a new job. A new apartment. New friends. Nope It refuses to accept that I will have to live each day knowing that I can never have you. Never. It’s a heavy feeling. The heart wants it all back. I want you back. Just the way you were. Just the way how things were.

The way you used to look at me. The way I always wanted to sit next to you, closer to you, grab your hand, or hug you, cry, kiss and love. I actually liked leaving working early or taking days off altogether to see you. The first day I left early from work was because I had something in my eye, and boy am I glad that happened. You made me come over to your place, and we went to the beach after that. It was one of the very few innocent dates we had. I liked that. The movies too.  More than anything, I loved coming over to your place. The familiar smell. The happy feeling that, “I’m here with him right now and that’s all matters”. But I also started to hate it. Coming there meant, I had to leave sometime. I hated your car, because I had to get out of it sometime. Nothing was forever. I wanted to mother you, take care of you, love you like no one ever would. I always wanted to be near you. Very close. So close. I hated distance. I hated it when you’ll leave me for a few minutes to get your car. I hated separation. I hated when you’ll let go of my hand. Hated it when you’ll drop me off. Hated hanging up after talking to you over the phone. I hated the fact that I was almost always shy around you, in a fight/flight mode. But I liked holding your hand when we took that long walk in the forest, when it had just rained. I liked sitting with you in the dark.  I liked listening to you talk. Liked listening to your heart beat. Liked it when you smiled. Your large nose. Your greying hair. The lips.  More than anything I loved your big heart.

But my world changed when we became one. Or at least in my mind we were one. Your pain became mine as you let me witness your world. You let me take a walk in your shoes.  I cried when you felt pain. I smiled when you were happy. When I started having your dreams, when your break-up became mine, that’s when I knew it. This was it. Love. Not the happy, chirpy, romantic love, but the sad, pathetic, forever unhappy love. I was hurting. A little too much. I should have left. I tried. God, I tried so hard. I failed. I stayed and fell into a deep pit. I’ve been there ever since. Never moving. Not even a millimeter. I think I got used to being in love with you, in a sadomasochistic way. I’m used to the tears flowing during work. I try not to sob too hard, for the fear of waking up my mother, during the nights. I hate the tear marks on my glasses, the pillow, my clothes and the numerous tissues I have used up in the past year. I stop autos a little away from home. Walk the streets crying, because I don’t have a place to cry my heart out. Okay now, don’t worry. I’ve done that only once. I don’t do that anymore. Not on the streets. I wait for my folks to get to sleep to do that, like right now.

What am I sad about? That I’ve been a victim of unrequited love? That even though I love you with every beat of my heart, you don’t love me back. You have never loved me. And you never will. I don’t hate you for that. I’m just sad. I feel unlucky most of the times that I couldn’t be the person YOU wanted. The fact that we were never meant to be, and that we are so imperfectly perfect for each other, yet we can’t be together. We don’t have happiness destined for us. You are my unspeakable secret, unreachable dream and an unforgettable love.  I think I will have to live with that. Hey, it’s my problem right? I’ll deal with it. I was just your ‘friend’, your ‘emo crutch’, your ‘midnight friend to make calls and cry about your girlfriend’, ‘the best friend you can always count on’, ‘the girl who’ll comply to your animal instincts’, your ‘platonic friend that you don’t mind having an affair with’, because you love me as a person and you are attracted to me. Not just to my body, but mind and soul? (Well, you said it).

Everyone warned me about the pain that will follow and that it’s not worth it. But you know what? I will treasure every moment I spent with you. They are so so so special. No one would ever understand. Not even me! I don’t miss you. I never do. It’s something more. Something toxic. But I’ve started to like it.

There will come a day, when I will stop looking for your face in a crowd. The incessant reading up of saved text messages and the internet stalking will stop. I will probably tear up the written text messages, which I safeguard and carry with me all the time. Throw away the movie ticket I carry around, the one we went to for the first time. It was our very first date, when you were in a relationship with another girl. A very serious one, it was. I think I might actually throw away the flower you gave me. The one which grew at your place and is now safely resting between the pages of my most favourite book. But I’m afraid I wouldn’t stop loving you. I really am scared. I’m terrified. I need you. I love you.

Love,

Rhymeswithwho

Hello. I hope you are well. I have something to tell you, and it doesn’t matter to me if you read this or not, but I hope you do. You were right, and I was wrong. But also, I was right and you were wrong.

When we had our talk on September 11, 2009, you said a lot of things I didn’t want to hear, but eventually, I took them all in and tried to accept them. You recommended that I seek therapy—that it had helped you and Mary. Eventually, I did. My therapist and I talked a lot about my childhood, my parents, religion, God, Catholicism, and you and Mary and the whole ordeal.

So you were right about that. I needed help to get over a few things. I still feel a bit foolish thinking you and Mary could have been helpful to me.

You were right about Maryanne, too. She does in fact not have a “light” that shines within her. After the fallout, we discovered that she is actually one of the most selfish, conniving people I’ve ever known. She tried several Machiavellian-style maneuvers on B.. Book club has become a chore to attend; B. calls it “the Maryanne and Lulu show.” So you and Mary were right about that too, and Mary was right to end that relationship. B. had to maintain some kind of relationship with her because they work together, but recently Maryanne changed departments, and she basically forgot that B. exists. They rarely speak. We’ve come to the conclusion that she’ll be anyone’s friend as long as she needs something from them. As soon as she discovered that B. wasn’t really into fawning over her or indulging in her dramas, their friendship cooled. So yes, you were right about that, too.

But here’s what you were wrong about: me. I know that you did not understand what I was trying to do. I know that I fumbled my message over and over again, trying to make it right. I needed your help and I wanted it. I was desperate for anyone to listen to me. I felt so betrayed, and so foolish for making such a big leap of faith. It was all about God and family and love; I wanted those things so much. It still aches inside of me.

In 2010, I began meeting with priests. We talked some, I cried some. I met with a woman from the RCIA. I learned a lot about sacraments and obligation, and some things about the inner workings of the church. It was very fascinating. There were times I wished that we were still friends, just so I could ask you and Mary questions.

I attended a Sunday Mass. I was underwhelmed.

Right now there is something in me that wants to believe, but does not. I have read a book or two about Christianity since we spoke, and I’ve talked with a lot of people online. I’ve considered the Episcopal Church. But something keeps me away.

I’m sorry, Paul. Sorry I didn’t understand Holy Obligations and why that’s a big deal. I’m sorry I opened my heart to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t ask for help until it was too late and I’m sorry you didn’t want to offer it. I’m sorry I loved you and your wife, and I’m sorry I told you I did. I’m sorry you did not love me back. Actually, I’m not sorry for loving you and your wife. If I loved you “what business is it of yours” anyway? I’m sorry you and I and B. and Mary don’t get to be friends, and have cool parenting adventures together.

Sometimes I wish I could call you—that I hadn’t deleted your phone numbers and email addresses. Sometimes I wish we could all still be friends. But then I remember how much you hurt me, and my wife. That’s when I realize that even if I want to be friends, to “have fun” and conversation with you and Mary, it can never be.

Maybe I’ll never be a Christian again. Maybe I’ll never genuflect and praise God quite the same way that you do. Maybe I’ll never take communion like you do. But I know something about human decency. And I have to tell myself that what you did was not only “not nice,” it was also the most un-Christian—the most indecent—thing to do.

So I guess I was wrong about you, too. Goodbye.