I know I never told you, but I loved you. I know you gave me no reason too, but that’s implying that love is reasonable. It’s not. I have learned that now after having endured your silences, absences, and illusions.
I don’t blame you. I understand that you were too busy to love me back, too full of hurt from the past. And I don’t mind.
But sometimes… When it’s late at night and I start thinking about the way you used to smile at me, I tear up. I loved you so wholeheartedly and pathetically that I wish I could regret it. But I don’t. Because you were worthy of my love. You taught me lessons I otherwise would have lived without and you gave me the time to heal while I figured that out.
You were the first boy I had ever met that didn’t want me for my body or its benefits. You didn’t want me for physical reasons.
You wanted me for me. At that time I needed that more than anything. Thank you.
I don’t know how you feel when you think about us, or if you even think about us, and I don’t need to know, but I thought I’d let you know that you’re a happy memory. You’re one of those memories that I smile at, but feel this deep and aching sadness because I know deep in my bones that there is no going back to that time.
You’re that memory that I pretend is okay to talk about, but it tugs at my heart with every word said. You’re that memory that slips into my dreams on bad nights. You’re that memory that surprises me in the middle of the day and shocks me into silence. You’re that memory that I can’t find it in me to forget, but sometimes I wish that I could.
You’re the boy that I loved who didn’t and couldn’t love me back.
And I don’t blame you for that.