When You Left Me, All I Felt Was Regret

You know never know at the beginning who will leave an impression on you. The shortest stint of an almost lover can weigh heavier than the one I could’ve seen for longer. Our choices hung up on walls and written all over our faces. The fall continues with leaves on the ground, finding the satisfying crunch underneath my feet. This fall, however, I am somewhere new. Two hundred miles away with empty hands, it feels much colder than usual.

My best friend told me I could be anyone I want to here. But, I’ve never been one to reinvent myself. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, which is why small interactions mean so much to me. I don’t really think something can be perfect, but the smallest moments have the least room for error. There is something special about an occurrence where I can find connection with a stranger. It exists only in the instance, but fastens to my soul with flowers.

I always have a hesitation before I leave a place. A small pause before opening the door. In the back of my mind I always wonder, will I ever be here again? And I suppose I have never been anywhere twice. My sense of direction is awful, but there are times when you have an experience and you aren’t the person you were twelve minutes ago. It’s always in the idle moment where you notice the most. Everyone in their own worlds, figuring out their lives. The person sitting next to me on the plane listening to the exact same song as me.

I like to think he hesitated before he left. That he questioned it, even briefly, as he shut the door. There was stillness after, a calm quiet as though nothing existed outside of my room. As he exited, the world became muted and I was so aware of myself. These are the instances worth keeping. The feelings of fleeting romance just short enough to crave more. Where it can be almost perfect underneath, before other elements can touch it.

I didn’t want him to leave, but I’ve never been the type of person to ask someone to stay. I figured he had someone else to come home too. It was late, she must be missing him. I had only known him a few days and I missed his presence the moment he got up.

We only had a few minutes together and now are two thousand miles apart. But, for some reason, I keep finding myself thinking of him. The almost. The could’ve. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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