We Could Have Been Something Great (But We’ll Never Know What That Was)

I believed in it enough for the both of us. You and me and our own rules, living so unlike everyone else because our love was different.

By

Kristin Vogt
Kristin Vogt
Kristin Vogt

Sometimes I think that I was too complicated for your life.

I had all these ideas that were so hard for you to see. But it never mattered. I believed in it enough for the both of us. You and me and our own rules, living so unlike everyone else because our love was different. And I saw that as a beginning for us, whereas you saw it as an ending for you. It’s as though something inside you would’ve died by giving yourself to me, by letting me be yours.

But you were my best friend. That’s just how I saw it. We would enjoy each other’s company, challenge each other, fill each other up with passion and laughter, music and moments. But I never wanted to take you from you. I hope that’s something you realize.

It wouldn’t be perfect. Neither of us were. I just thought that in this maddening world full of mediocrity, we could have been something so great. So maybe everyone we knew had settled and were now unhappy, but even in our worst moments, I still believed in us. We were different than the rest of them, by how we loved each other, and knowing exactly how we didn’t want to be. You knew it, too. Remember?

I always said that love doesn’t have to make sense. To me, that was the best part about it, about us.

Maybe people like you and me weren’t supposed to fit together. But we did.

That’s what mattered to me. And loving you meant loving all of you, including all you were so unsure about in your life. We balanced each other. We complimented each other. And yet, there was something about it you couldn’t understand, like there was too much pressure involved with being totally happy with me.

I was always the stubborn one, though. Remember? I admit that. That was me. But now, as I’ve changed, and I’m standing here absolutely yours, wanting all of you, there you are changing your mind. What is it then that you want? Sometimes I feel like you’re at battle with yourself, as if you don’t actually know what it is you really want. You want me. But you don’t want me.

I imagine you and the rest of your life. How you’ll end up with someone so much easier than me, how she won’t complicate anything. Instead of being so serious, like I felt I was too many times, she’ll be so carefree, so cool. It won’t matter if love makes sense or it doesn’t make sense, either. Why should it to her? Keep life light. And the best part is that you’ll be in control of it all, which you’ll like, because there was something about me that scared you, and you hated having so little control over that.

I try to see even further than this, but I can’t. You were always strange about the future. That’s why I can’t see anything because it all stops here. But maybe that’ll be the beauty of you guys, just you and her without a plan. You’ll find it refreshing. She won’t confuse you. She won’t scare you. She won’t ask those life questions that you won’t know the answer to. Remember how good I was at that?

I guess sometimes I still just see us. You and me. Being so different than the rest of them, making our own rules. I didn’t mean to be so complicated. I never wanted to take you from you. I just thought that we could have been something so great.

Until we couldn’t anymore. Thought Catalog Logo Mark


About the author

Cynthia Marie

I think it’s healthy to cry on the street for no reason