Boy….
I dont know how to start this. I didnt know I would ever have to- at first, because I didnt expect to ever feel anything for you, and, later, because I thought we were both beginning to fall for each other, and, maybe, I wouldnt have to say goodbye to you- not permanantly. When you asked me “what if I was gone for weeks at a time,” working far away, I didnt hesitate to tell you thats what snapchat and texting are for, because, it seemed like, we had all the time in the world to spend together if we so decided- I didnt need to be glued to you. I wouldnt need to miss something that would always come back. I didnt doubt that, because I have big dreams of hiking and travelling and I knew I would be happy to come back to you. I would be happy so long as I knew you were comfortable, on your couch, with your pups, exactly where you wanted to be. I can live without being next to you, but I want you to be happy. That still applies. I want you to be happy. I thought I could see myself as part of that, cooking dinner and watching movies and reading books, but even if I’m not, I hope you find everything you’re looking for and I hope you wake up each day and smile.
The night we talked about that was the night we walked down Pine Street and you told me you’d worked to build thick walls because you’d been hurt so many times- internally, I said I’d never hurt you, and I resolved to push until I broke through your barriers. I believed thats what you wanted. I was wrong, I guess, but Im not giving up. Maybe you’ll read this and maybe you’ll chnage your mind. Maybe you’ll call me 3 months from now and realize you feel like I do and you don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t know, because despite asking, I don’t know why you decided to push me away.. maybe I just wasnt the girl. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe you were too scared. Maybe you’re overwhelmed. I wish I knew, so that the next time I hand my heart out, maybe I can make it come back a bit less mangled. Maybe I could guard it…. although, thats not me. You know that.
You told me this story about a woman you once loved meeting someone else and just “knowing it was right.” You’d felt that way about her. I felt that way about you. I wanted to go more places, do more things, have more experiences, with you. I know I’m not a tame girl who dresses nicely and minds my manners. I drive too fast and drink too much and I’m always out testing my own limits. Also, though, I’m something I thought you liked. We talked about our goals like they were similar. Living here, family, a little farm, hiking, being healthy and active. Those were my dreams, and when you told me your versions of them, I liked how closely they jived, even if, sometimes, I dropped multiple pieces of sweet potato on your deck because I still got butterflies with you, and I still felt like you were too good for a girl like me.
That night on Pine was also the night you drove past that mansion for me. The Gatsby house. I was glad you went back to do that, and I can’t remember if I told you, but in my head I was dreaming of you, Gatsby, and me, Daisy, and 20’s style parties and elegance and us being the most dashing ones there. I told you my favorite line, I think, and in the end, I became it. A beautiful little fool.
I wish I could pinpoint the moment where I crossed the line from you being a hookup and a friend to falling for you. There are a few, I guess. I spent the night, you were worried and I knew you stayed awake all night worrying, though you said you “just couldn’t sleep.” That was the beginning of me seeing what family means to you, and thats one of my favorite things about you. Also, your insecurities. You told me those, and they made me melt. You trusted me enough to send me a photo you liked of yourself, you insisted on getting mushrooms on kabob night even though you think they’re icky, you drove all the way to my house so we could go get groceries in a totally different city together when you could’ve easily said you were too busy, and I know you hate to drive. You made time for me. You called me a princess and you made me feel like one.
We talked every day and every night for months, and somewhere in there I fell too far and when you pulled back- slowly, at first, like you were just fading out of my life, I started to realize my mistake. I fought to keep you, but you were already gone.
We haven’t really talked in awhile and its getting a little easier, but I’m hoping this will be the cathartic release I need to close the book. I need to stop texting you and hoping you’ll respond. I need to stop using alcohol as an excuse to reach out. I wish I’d known I was falling so hard before it was too late, I wish you’d felt the same for me, I wish it didn’t hurt to think about you, I wish you’d given me an answer as to what happened, and I wish I didn’t want so much to share things with you- a car like yours, with a mountain name on the license plate; silly things that I think would make you smile.
Last Sunday night, on a boat, a handsome, kind guy asked me why I was looking at the water with such sadness, and I told him I was sad over a boy who didn’t feel as I did. We talked for awhile, and he said, before we got off, “I think that boy is a fool.” I wish I could’ve agreed. Instead, I told him that, no, you weren’t a fool, but that we are broken over what we are broken over until, hopefully, someday, we aren’t. We get hurt, and once we’ve learned that, we must inevitably pass it along to someone else. We dont mean to, we just do. You are a lot of things- sour, handsome, dangerous boy- but there was nothing about you I didn’t fall for, even when you didn’t fall for me.
All of the kisses.
