You became magic to me. An escape, dust that I couldn’t wipe off my brain no matter what I tried focusing on, sticking like a film that’s been settling for years. I won’t lie, I should’ve trusted my original gut instinct about you; the one that said you were nothing but trouble, that you’d break my heart. And for a moment, I did. I pushed and pushed, but you did something I wasn’t used to, and that was pulling me. Phone calls, endless texts. I was persistent, stubborn. So were you though, and you finally broke that cement wall I’d put up against you; and I regret never building those pieces back up to save myself.
I never thought in a million years I’d fall down the magic tunnel that everyone seems to stumble over when they meet someone. I’ve always been able to keep a relatively level head. Sure, I’d get as scattered-brained as the next girl might over someone “amazing” and become disgustingly pink in the cheeks at the sound of your name. But this was different, you were different. You said my name differently, with more intention than I’d heard any other guy say it before. You took me places, kissed my cheek like nobody else ever had. Would take time to visit me and tell me about your day. I lost myself, blissfully, beautifully, hopelessly lost myself. No sense of time or what day it was. Everything was rose colored when I was with you. I wasn’t afraid either, I wanted to know all of you, and you wanted to know all of me. That’s where it all went wrong I think.
Little did I realize that in the process of knowing all of you, I’d forgotten myself in the process. And slowly you turned me against myself, making me think I was in the wrong. You said you wanted me all to yourself, and I said I wanted that too, and I waited. I asked when, and you told me soon. I insisted I never wanted to push you either way, and eventually I felt wrong for asking at all, for being myself. Day after day it was millions of questions on what I’m doing wrong, why I’m not good enough to be more to you. I was your in between, the girl you liked but not enough to be more to you, but also more than just a friend. Everything around me felt like it was slowly deteriorating and you made me feel crazy. I blocked other people out to let you in, and still it wasn’t enough. I told you how much I cared, to which you’d responded, “I care too, just not as much as you do about me apparently.”
I had to let go. I was destroying myself. I’m so much more than your kisses at 4 AM laced with liquor and bad intentions, or your maybe later girl, the girl that waits around. I’m going to forgive myself for losing myself in you, and the thoughts of you. I’ll forgive you for knowing what you actually wanted and not telling me, and I’ll even forgive you for not knowing what you wanted too because that’s the worst thing in the world. I’m the girl that falls all at once, quickly for people. And I can’t be mad at myself for that, because I spent too long hating the person I am and the heart I have because you convinced me it was wrong. I can’t be mad at you either because I know you’re fighting something within you worse than anything I could wish on you. I just hope that you don’t hurt anyone else in the process of trying to find yourself. It’s a harsh world, and to convince someone that they’re wrong for feeling something in a world where that’s all we do, is the worst thing. So, I won’t tell you that you were wrong. I’ll say I hope that you can make it right with someone, but it won’t be me. And I won’t ever let it be me.