It’s been a while. I have so many things to tell you, but I can’t find it in me to call you. I’m afraid you won’t answer, or you’ll answer, tell me how you missed me and I would fail to resist. I have to remind myself that I you wanted to talk to me, you would.
I am a realist now. You made me become one. I once was a nonbeliever in love. Then, I met you; you made me believe in love, made me believe that I had something you were too scared to lose. Then, you left leaving little pieces of yourself in every aspect of my life. I grieve you while you’re still living. I guess that my grief for you is a reminder that what I felt for you was real, that my grief for you is all the love I had to give you that now has no where to go. It hurt when you left. We were happy, or at least I thought we were. I loved you, I really did. I still love you, but not in the same way anymore. I love you like you’re gone, and you are. I have to treat you as if you’re gone because if I don’t there’s a glimpse of hope that I might be able to love you like I once did.
I told my therapist that I resented you, that I wished I never met you, that I want you to hurt in the way that I hurt. I hoped you’re poisoned by the pain you’ve caused me. I hoped your mind screams and your stomach churns when you hear me name, when you see me. I hoped you feel the emptiness my absence brings. I hoped when you find yourself with someone else that you will realize that I gave you all I could, and you let me go. He asked me about all the times you did stay, all the things we conquered together. I know that with as much as I want to hate you, I can’t. When you cross my mind, I see your fluffy brown hair and your smile. I hear your laugh and all I can think about is how much I wished we had more time together.
I’d like to think in another life we did end up together. I’d get you see you with gray hair and the wrinkles by your eyes deepen. We would live a simple life like we’d always talked about, dancing around the kitchen while making pancakes for dinner, decorating the Christmas tree and you lifting me up to put the star at the top, you spinning me in the middle of the street just because. In another life, I wouldn’t have destroyed everything around me trying to cope with who I was. I would’ve gotten help a lot sooner, and I could be better for you and everyone else.
As the cold starts to set in, I feel myself starting to forget you as you start to forget about me. I miss your warmth more these days. I yearn for the days we spent in bed, tangled up in the warm bed sheets as you kissed my forehead. I yearn for the moments where nothingness feels like something. I’m not the same girl I was last fall. I killed all the parts of myself that reminded me of you and my new self is empty. I found you in every part of me and it killed me. I no longer drink coffee out of a straw, in fact I enjoy hot coffee occasionally. I take long walks; I don’t drink anymore. I like to do things by myself now. I talk more to the girls you encouraged me to stay in touch with; we are all very close now. Yet, I still feel an emptiness that was once occupied by your presence.
It took me a long time to realize that I had to complete myself. You couldn’t complete me no matter how much I wanted you to. I was flawed and was a fool for thinking you could fix everything, for thinking I needed you. I thought that maybe, just maybe if I showed you the damaged parts of my soul, you could fix them. I was a fool for thinking that those kisses on my scars could heal me. But, I forgive you for everything. It took losing you to find myself again. I had to find ways to cope that weren’t self-destructive and I’m coping the best I can. I don’t need you now as I did once, rather I want you to be by my side for the day I can complete myself. You pinky promised me. I want you there, not out of spite, but to make you proud that I overcame all the obstacles I was predestined to face. I want you to see the new person I have become, to love her, hold her, tell her it is okay to had bad days.
When you’re ready, call me, text me, scream at the top of your lungs for me. I’ll answer like I always do; I’ll be waiting.