I am contemplating if I should tell you this story
again. I know I’ve told it so many times now, but you always liked my
writing, I hope that hasn’t changed. I keep playing those days over and
over in my head at night. I usually lay awake as my thoughts race to
you. I’m sure you know all of this. I miss our long talks though, and thus
I would like you to hear. I hope you’re listening too.
The life that you and I had built was wonderful. The
story in my mind makes my heart race whenever I think back through the years
making up its pages. It reminds me of the stolen glances. It reminds
me how thankful I was that you could not see how fast my heart was beating the
first time we met. If you did, you thankfully blamed it on the nervousness
and the fact that I was an introvert. I wonder if you knew how scared I was
that I would ruin what we had before it was ever ours. Because I did not till I
realized it much later. I guess you got a hint though, because that’s when you
had first held my hand. And calmed me down instantly.
I would wait for you for days, months, like a child waiting
for a gift. Eagerly and looking forward to it and with unmatched enthusiasm. In
the days leading up to our meetings, I would walk around my room for hours
thinking of what we would talk about, words that would make you smile and
laugh, things that would let you forget all the problems and worries in your
life. Also, I tried on every nice top I owned, every pair of jeans, every
piece of clothing, trying to find the perfect thing to look good in. I was
suddenly making efforts to look good, I lost sleep, and more than anything, I
hoped.
And after all of that, with my eyes having a tuff time
looking at you/away from you in those opening moments, I could think of no
clever line, no charming words, just a whatsup in reply to your whatsuppp! I
was afraid you would judge me. I do not know if you did or not, but you smiled
nevertheless. In those opening scenes you were so far above me and what you
deserved was so far beyond me.
But you told me I was cute, which only made it worse, but in
the best of ways.
Do you remember the evening we sat and talked about your
dreams? That is one of my fondest memories of you. You dreamt of doing
something worthwhile. Of making your dad proud and happy. You had dreams
of finding success and purpose in life. Over the years, I opened up my soul and
let you in. Something I have never done easily or often with
anyone. It had been years since these doors opened; years since the light
of day illuminated these broken halls. But you were always
different. It was as if you knew. Instead of running on these broken
stones, you walked steady and you gave life to the shattered walls; cared for
the scars that the years had left. Never was there a sprint to an arbitrary
finish line or some selfish goal, just the serenity of the time you and I spent
together. And apart. You knew that I was fragile, no matter how solid I
held myself out to be, the cracks beneath the surface ran deep. The only
thing you cared for was me, in whatever condition I was in, at that time, you
simply wanted me. No matter how slow you and I had to walk, you were glad to
simply walk with me. You wanted to make me better and not get tired of my
faults. You were patient and diligent. You were always there for me. I’ve
never known that love before, but I know that it is rare and I know it is
something people search till the end of their days for and the light fades on
their empty hands.
I still wonder if you knew that my heart would constantly
jump to my throat around you, even when our newness had faded. In the
early morning you would gently stir, your hair disheveled and messy, but so
beautiful to me. Then again, everything about you always was. Hearing
your laugh drift through the rooms, the smell of your Brut, a hand on my waist
and my heart would sprint. People have told me that feeling fades with
time. Luckily, it never did for me.
I know that those days we can’t get back. There are
memories of you that I treasure, but I fear will fade with time. I desperately
pray that if you look back at your time with me, you’ll see it as
worthwhile. You were never one for words, but you tried to tell me how
much you loved me, or when words failed, tried to show me. With an effing
brilliant house made with your own hands.
You must know that you made me better; made me whole. I
know that I can’t possibly thank you for that, no matter how much I try. You
hold a place in my heart and your love has reached even deeper, going somewhere
beyond it. But today there is such a profound emptiness where your warmth
used to be; such a longing wait; serving as a reminder of how special our story
is.
I often find my mind wandering to our favorite spots; the
window seat overlooking the street. The walks we have taken. I like to
imagine you are just in the kitchen getting tea, or sitting silent next to
me. Playing music on the laptop. I know it’s foolish, to live like this
and give credence to these thoughts. But that’s all I live by in place of
you now. You loved to sit and play the guitar, or read a book, or just watch
the day pass by you. I always found comfort seeing you in your favorite
boxers, slowly drinking in the world. I’m drawn to many of the things we
used to do. I feel drawn to walk your favorite paths, see the movies you
loved, and hear the songs that moved you so. I’m desperate for ways to
feel close to you once more. I hear your voice echoing through the days,
the songs I know well, but your voice has begun to fade. I am tired of just
listening to the echoes. I want to listen to you.
Its strange, the manner in which you have slowly drifted
away. I don’t know how to put that to words, or if there are words enough
to tell you how. But, I think the unexpectedness of it all has made me
numb. The helplessness of having no choice in the matter; knowing that you
do not feel anything awkward about it. Trying to tell myself that it is
just a phase. Over and over again. It was only recently that I began to ache,
to feel the loneliness place its icy fingers around me. Every morning, I
found myself looking to see your disheveled hair and your smile after you telling
me you want to hug me. And wanting to ask me why I am so far way. It’s
just me now. Asking the same things. To myself.
I remember the lines of grey and black; the tear streaked
eyes, and crumpled hands and the curled toes. The apologies and
condolences and the question of what are we going to do? What else? What
now? I tried being the strong girl who does not care for a bit. But I do not
want to do that anymore. Life has never come naturally to me like it has to
you. It was your love of it that provided me hope and courage to do the things
I did not know I could. Now, when you tell me that you do not feel the
same way anymore. And you do not know what to do; I am the one who is lost.
I look for ways to fix this, of something I can do but there
are things you can’t fix alone, stories you can never experience again. I
feel like a lone fighter, like hitting against a blank wall. Like shouting out
loud but no one is listening. Like going downhill at a very high speed. The sound of our story crumbling deafens me
and rips at me. Sitting in silence I realize that it is just you and I,
but not the way it once was.
I hope wherever you are or whatever waits for us after all
of this, treats you well. Not because I believe in something bigger and better,
but because I can’t stand the thought of not being with you or not hearing you
laugh, or sing, or watch you just be. I refuse to believe that this is all
there is and that the greatest happiness I ever knew could end like this.
It’s difficult to speak to an unfeeling stone, to weep in
front of blankness. I constantly imagine footsteps, as if you are running
to comfort me. I know it’s just my mind, but my heart gives way to
hope.
I can hear you now, “don’t do that to yourself, it’s not
fair.” And you’re right, it isn’t. But what am I to do? The
ghosts of the times that have passed are shackled to me; I feel their weight
across my back. I feel both, their presence and absence in the shortness
of my breathing and the unrelenting tears when I think back to you and us. And
how we are right now.