We Didn’t Last Forever, But At Least I Got A Taste Of Infinity With You

I got a taste. “Three years,” we both say. Two years, six months, and 11 days, to be exact.

I look at the number, and it seems so short. It looks like nothing compared to the other 18 years I have lived without knowing you. But, the truth is, it felt like an infinity. Not like the infinity waiting in the doctor’s office or the infinity of credits before the next Marvel post-credit scene, but like the infinity Hazel Grace felt with Augustus Waters.

Like I’ve known you all my life. Like time froze when I was with you. Like minutes, hours, and days meant nothing.

Time wasn’t measured by numbers, it was measured by your corny jokes, by the High School Musical songs we sang in your car, and the butterflies in my stomach with each innocent kiss.

It felt like an infinity because of the way I made friends with your past. Each precious story you told me about your history made the person you are at that moment so much clearer to me. Each dream, each endeavor, each heartbreak, each secret you shared with me made me love you even more. And I thank God every day for all those little things that brought you to my doorstep.

It felt like an infinity because of the road we saw ahead of us. Two dreamers, one dream, and one path. I never believed in the word “soul mate” until I found you. You, who from the very first week, didn’t think I was crazy when I told you my impossible dreams. You, who share the same passions as I do. You, who just like me, isn’t in this for the game, but for the long haul.

We knew where we wanted to be, we knew where we wanted to go, and we knew we could get there together.

Knew. Somewhere there, you realized that you didn’t know anymore. And that’s how the infinity ended. After two years, six months, and 11 days.

I only got a taste.

It’s hard to imagine that during that very tiny portion of your life, I was someone important. Someone you would call a priority. Someone you said you would do anything for. Someone you said you loved.

I’m not saying that you lied. I know you were honest. I know that at some point, I was everything to you.

But, now, where do I stand? When you chose to leave it all behind, where did you choose to place me in your life? At this point, I guess I’ll never know.

How do you realize that you don’t love someone anymore? How do you realize that someone isn’t “the one”? How do you realize that it’s not worth fighting for? How do you choose to walk away from someone you worked so hard to get? How do you let go of a heart you only once dreamt of holding?

How do you look her in the eyes and tell her all of this, as she begs you to stay?

How lucky are those who get to stay in your life. How lucky are those who you don’t walk away from. How lucky are those who get to see you smile every day. How lucky are those who get friendly hugs and random high-fives from the warm hands that I used to memorize the texture of in mine.

How lucky are those whose number you call after a bad day. How lucky are those who get to hear you sing. How lucky are those who hear your name and don’t feel something sharp in their hearts. How lucky are they.

I’ve never been more envious of people than I am now, because all I got was a taste.

Two years, six months, and 11 days.

But then I think about how much more of you I had during that small time frame than they’ll ever get as they stay in your life. I had the secrets. I had the high notes no one else will ever hear. I had the inappropriate innuendoes and shameless conversations.

I had the best times as well as the worst. I had the tears on the phone as you reflected on the meaning of family after watching “Tangled” with me. I had the first news after your auditions. I had first dibs to shotgun seat, to your time, to your heart. I had the I need you’s, I miss you’s, and I love you’s.

In those two years, six months, and 11 days, I had you.

Perhaps that was enough time for us to learn from each other and carry on. Perhaps we took a shortcut and ended us way before we were meant to break each other’s hearts. Perhaps we missed out on the best thing that could have ever happened to us because we couldn’t overcome our own doubts.

We’ll never know.

But the one thing I do know is that it was so wonderful that I can’t even be mad at you for letting go. Even our last date was riddled with laughter and sweetness till the tears sprung at the very end.

It was everything a relationship was supposed to be—safe, mature, loyal, generous, supportive, liberating, and a little coy. But there were still so much more we could have done together that neither time nor circumstances permitted.

The one thing I do know is that I’ll never regret giving you that part of my life. And that part—those two years, six months, and 11 days—will always be yours.

So I’ll accept our fate and take a step back as our road splits into two. I’ll walk on always remembering how lovely it was to be yours, and, occasionally, I’ll look back and think about how lucky are those, who get to stay in your life.