I Wanted To Tell You
There are a lot of things I wanted to tell you this weekend when we were face to face, that I didn’t tell you, that I felt I couldn’t tell you.
I wanted to tell you that I was seeing someone for a month’s time while you were gone. I wanted to tell you that he genuinely meant something to me during that time, and showed me the beauty of simply taking things as they come. I wanted to tell you that he reminded me of what it looks like to follow your dreams and possesses many of the same qualities I used to see in myself. I wanted to tell you that I feel for whatever reason, he was here for a reason, even if only for a short time. I wanted to tell you that I was anxious about allowing myself to get close to anyone else, because I only know how to be close to you, and I know how it feels to watch someone you care about come and go from your life. I wanted to tell you that two weeks before you came home, I went to the park by myself one night and sat in the grass and cried out to the universe, because I should have been happy or excited, but instead I was confused.
I wanted to tell you that I understand it was time to let you go the last time you left and went away. I wanted to tell you that I know you had asked me to let you go before, but I refused to. I wanted to tell you that I have learned that there is beauty in loving everything that happens to you in life, and similar beauty to be found in letting go. I wanted to tell you that I don’t regret any of the feelings I have ever had for you, the ones I have held back and repressed, the ones I have let bleed out of my heart, the ones I have carried outright on my sleeves. I wanted to tell you that I don’t regret the moments I have spent for you and with you, or the leaps taken to get to you, and that I would take them all over again, if you wanted me to. I wanted to tell you all of this not as if it will change anything, but because life is short, too short to not be honest. I know I don’t have to tell you any of this, but I wanted to.
I want to.
I want to tell you that I am quitting my job because I am unhappy here and I need to feel alive again. I want to tell you that I have found that life is best and most fully lived when scared. I want to tell you that I want so badly to move to the city we have dreamed of, and I feel it in my bones that I must go there. I want to say that I am scared in the way that one is scared and excited because something is a new adventure, and because there are new lines on new faces that await me, but mostly I am scared of how I will feel if we both end up there following our dreams, separately.
I want to tell you that although I have and will again care for people who aren’t you, I will care about you the most and I don’t want you to only live in my memories. I want you to be able to call me when you are sad, when you are having the worst day imaginable. I want you to be able to call me when someone hurts you. I want you to be able to call me when you are having the best day possible. I want to share in your triumphs and celebrate your victories.
I want to drive across the country and go to you, sit you down, draw you in closely and say all of this to you in person, but I can’t. I want to tell you all of this now because I don’t know if and when I will see your face again. I don’t know what happens next, and that has to be okay. I have to be okay. I have to be okay without you.
Most of all, I want to tell you not to worry about me. I will be okay. Someday I will be okay without you.
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“Ms. Katelyn, you better find yourself a husband so you can save some money and get comfortable!”
The answer is simple: time and conscious thought.
I just want to be 79 years old so I can watch Boy Meets World re-runs in peace and not feel guilty for wasting my perky breasts and small wrists on a gallon of ice cream and Ben Savage in all his 11-year-old prime. I AM A SQUARE.
2. Embrace Your Mistakes: They Make You Who You Are.