1. I have seen you naked. I have seen every single inch of your bare skin and explored, loved, and taken pleasure in it. You’ve seen the parts of my body I stare at in frustration and insecurity. You’ve touched them with grace and complimented them. You have stared in silence, marveling at my imperfect beauty.
2. I still feel the uncontrollable urge to press my lips on yours. If I see you in passing, I own no will power to stop from simply grabbing you and taking your face in my hands. I will continue to subconsciously hold my hand out waiting for your pinky to link with mine.
3. I will never stop believing that, in the brightest timeline, the map of my happy future is hidden in the crease of your smile. We have imagined and reimagined the names and characteristic of our future children. We have discussed the theory of forever. I am not ready to believe that we were so incredibly wrong.
4. I cannot fix the puppy dog eyes that will continue to stare you down. We cannot be around one another for more than a minute without feeling the uncontrollable urge to cry. And although we have both agreed to call it quits, I won’t stop bypassing my logic and pride to question why we can’t try just this last time to make things work.
5. You will not pass up the opportunity to point out my bloodshot, puffy eyes. You will jokingly tell me that I look like shit and allude to the advice that I should stop beating myself up and crying over the end of what was.
6. I am irrevocably in love with you. And I don’t think I will ever have the strength to stop the unsolicited word vomit that will come when I attempt to make that known.
7. I still owe you eight lifetimes worth of blow jobs. In our short stint, I accumulated enough fuckups that it was absolutely warranted and I don’t like the idea of reneging on my debts. So, I cannot guarantee that my face won’t end up in your lap from time to time.
8. I hate rejection. And that is all that will come with our future interactions. You have always been a man that sticks by his decisions. The words “it’s over” will continue to ring in my memories and I will continue to register them as untrue. So, when I come to your house at 2:34 am, banging on your door and expressing that we can’t be over and that we have something real on our hands, we just have to figure out a way to fix it, you will look at me with annoyed, disappointed eyes and tell me to go back home because there is nothing left for us to discuss. And I will loathe myself for the sad attempt until the next time it occurs.
So as you can see, there is no option of simply “being friends.” There is only sheepishly walking past one another and politely half-assing smiles as if we are nothing but acquaintances. I will have rendered myself into a sad, scorned stranger to you. People that are familiar with our will ask what happened, and we will both answer “things just didn’t work,” you doing so with indifference and understanding of circumstance, while I do so with remorse and mourn or a dead dream. I guess all I can hope that will come of this is that you understand that I wrote this with sincerity and hopes for your future happiness.