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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Answer phones better than anyone else has answered phones before. Relay messages so brilliant, they bring people to tears. Turn the coffee run into the choreography of Swan Lake. Become best friends with every intern and every underling and every taxi driver you encounter.
I remember taking the pen and notebook from that woman outside the courtroom, flipping to a clean page in the book, and writing, JESSICA IS SAD in big, bold, uncoordinated letters. “My sister is going to be a good writer someday! Look at how nice her lines are!”
To begin, I got totally screwed over in the dental genes department. I was born with a pretty severe overbite and a mouth that was too small.
If this doesn’t become the biggest video on the Internet, then I have no faith left in humanity.