You’ve been on my mind today. I’m not really sure why. We’ve not been close in a long time – nearly two years. When I chose someone else. When I chose the man who would turn out to be the love of my life, over my best friend.
I remember the first time we spoke, and it brings a smile to my face. You were sitting across from me. You introduced yourself, as did I. I remember that you stood out, because of your ginger curly hair and your huge eyes.
I remember us having lunch between lectures, and I would talk relentlessly about my love life dramas. And you always listened, and gave the best advice. I remember when we auditioned for a show together, and that if it weren’t for your encouragement, I never would have so much as set foot on that stage. The stage which I came to consider as a second home.
I remember that my halls were directly opposite yours. One phone call away, and within seconds we could be outside smoking the next cigarette, having the next conversation, making the next memory.
I remember watching old musicals in your room, staying up late into the night. Discussing our hopes and dreams, the past and the future, magic and meditation. I remember how we would try to read each other’s minds. I remember once falling asleep on your bed around 3 a.m. and waking up to find your arm around me. And still I didn’t work it out.
I remember when we decided to get a flat together for our second year. How long we spent house hunting, how we planned how we could decorate it, how we imagined we would still want to see each other all the time.
I remember you watching on as I pursued another man, a man who only wanted me one time and one time only, for all the wrong reasons.
I didn’t realize that while he was breaking my heart, I was also breaking yours.
I remember our friend telling me that I was the one you loved. I remember the look on your face. I remember the long hug we shared after we talked it over, never coming to a conclusion. I wondered if I loved you too. I wondered if I should choose you. I wondered how I never saw the signs. I still wonder.
I remember someone else as well. Another friend. Another lost soul, just like me. Whose arms I would turn to for comfort. When you were wishing for me to be in your arms instead. I remember falling in love with him, but never telling you, because I didn’t think he would ever think of me as more than just a close friend.
I remember wanting to love you. I really wanted to love you. And I tried to love you. I did. I do. Just not the same way that you did. And I hate myself for what happened next.
I remember I was confused about my feelings for you and him. I turned to wine. To cider. To vodka. I smoked more cigarettes than I could cope with and for a while it ruined my singing voice. The voice that, without, I probably never would have met you, or him.
And I remember that when I was drunk out of my mind I would kiss you and confuse you and give you false hope. And then I would go back to him and sleep my sorrows away, waking up to a guilty conscience, a light head, and a heavy heart.
I remember when he told me he was falling for me. And I said yes to him. And then you saw us kiss, and that was the final straw.
I remember how we didn’t speak for weeks because I hurt you so badly. And how things were never quite the same between us again.
I really miss you. I know it was me who did you wrong, but it hurt me too. Because I realized that everything we had was temporary in spite of what I did. That it wasn’t a friendship with you, it was a romantic pursuit. But to me you were the most wonderful friend imaginable. You were a kindred spirit. I talk to him all the time, but some things he will never understand the way you did.
I miss how you used to tell me things. Your thoughts, your dreams, your past. And I hate that we are now as good as strangers. A brief greeting now and then, before the inevitable goodbye. I know it isn’t ever going to be the same as before. I know you don’t think about me anymore. And that people drift apart, and that’s just life.
But you’ve been on my mind. And I hope you’re okay.