It’s 2:30 am of a Saturday Night, actually, a Sunday Morning already.
The glare of my laptop’s screen is burning my eyes and my fingers are sore from the callus typing session we’ve had.
Finally. I’m finished.
I can compare it to waiting for the sun to set in the morning or for it to rise in the afternoon, that was an opposing phenomenon. I mean how can that happen? She was like the hope I never thought I would find. Simply, she made me believe in love when I thought it was all make-believe; she conjured the love I only dream of.
It was a night supposedly for studying, but I was tempted to scroll down my recents in Facebook chat until I saw your name. I gathered all the courage left in my sweat-laden body so that I would be able to dispatch a “heey”.
The next few weeks would be the most amazing days of my life. You would ask me if I missed you and I would not hesitate to say yes. You would interrogate, but behind it was the thought to get to know me more. I loved it. I loved how you deliberately ignored my messages to allow me to focus on the current competition I was preparing for. We would babble endlessly. Every night I’d be surprised – it’s midnight again. I’d whisper to myself: “what else matters when I’m spending moments with this girl?” Colorless nights turned into our chromatic nights. Every. Single. Night.
Yet, I knew in my heart that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I couldn’t stand alone without you. Above all, I wasn’t ready for someone to touch my soul and leave it just like that.
Right then, and, there it hit me. I was hopelessly, incurably, and endlessly in love with you.
There, I said it. I was terrified. I had to commit my whole being to another individual when, I had no certainty that they’d reciprocate my feelings for as long as I would.
Out of fear, I slowly started to let go of you. Slowly but surely, I forgot you. I opened my door widely to welcome something new, someone else. I went to you only when I needed reassurance. I went to you when I was sad. I went to you when I needed someone to talk to. The moment I got what I wanted, I left. I barely had the patience to keep up with you. I was indeed distracted.
Time passed, but no one else was the same. Though my heart I tried to open, everything that entered just got me broken. You were constantly my 11:11 am, and pm wish, night and day. Rumors here and there would cause you to be absolutely angry at me and ignore me for weeks at end. Yet, inside you I still saw a friend. Yet, I knew I would never have done anything to hurt you. Yet, I knew I wanted to talk to you. Yet, I failed.
Things don’t seem like the way we wanted them and wished them to be. I’d give you all that I could, but it never seemed enough.
Uncertainty strikes, whether you wanted too much or was I giving too little?
I’ve been a disastrous and totally different person ever since, and the actual catastrophe of losing you is still sculpted in my heart like a mark that cannot be erased, not because of the dirt or temporary mark it left. Rather, it was more of a dent. A dent causing a figure to be permanently in that case – broken and damaged. And that dent is you, the lack of having someone like you. And, the figure is me. It is who I am today. It is who I am from the very moment that I lost you.
I want you to be happy. To be able to live life with no regrets because I have moved on. You taught me how to care and how to love again, and again, and again, and again, and all over again. And yes, I am thankful for that. And, that is one of the best things anyone could give someone.
Just do know that I will always be here for you, because the word “loved” doesn’t exist. Because, when you truly love someone that can be never lost. It just deepens and deepens.
Maybe even worsens or switches tracks completely. But, the word “loved” just doesn’t exist. Love can never go away. Even if I understood you like a box of chocolates. I never knew what you wanted, I never knew what was inside, did I even know you? Or better yet, you showed me a piece of art in black and white, but deep inside you were like Picasso’s colorful ones. You were a cup of tea I was trying to taste and feel even if all along I knew I wanted coffee.
I’m glad that I am fine knowing that you’re with someone else, doing something else. I will carry on. Until I see the flowers you love in the shop, until I see you again, until nostalgia hits me hard like it always does, until I find the answer to the question: did you choose me out of love or out of loneliness?
Best wishes and loads of love,
The guy who lost you.