It’s been eight months, not that anyone’s counting. Eight months that made me question my whole being, made me feel like I was unworthy of love, made me go back everything I had done and wonder where I went wrong.
Some days, all I wanted to do was crawl under my covers and cry, but I knew I couldn’t, because I had to show everyone I was stronger than that, stronger than the kind of girl who can’t see herself without a guy.
I had to prove to myself that I was better than any of the other girls you had dated, and prove that I could be single once again.
For 19 years, I was strong, independent, I knew myself and knew where my priorities were. Then you walked in. Your smile, your easy confidence, your passion, it carried me away. When we were together, I was on top of the world. You made me feel beautiful, and that I could take on the world. The long evenings we spent by the fire, or sitting together in my room, those moments were some of the best times of my weeks. You understood me in a way I didn’t understand myself, and you ignored all my mistakes and missteps, helping me gain confidence in myself.
And then you tore it all away. In fifteen minutes you took me from the mountain top to the bottom of the deepest valley, and I was reduced to a pile of tissues and a journal entry that repeated, “Why? Why? Why?” as I struggled to find an answer for an unanswerable question. But I had to show a good face to the world. I hate being the girl who wears her emotions on a sleeve, and so, for one week, I allowed myself to cry over you, and to hate you, and to never want to see you again.
But then I began to slowly close up the box where I held all my feelings for you, so that we could resume our friendship, albeit an awkward, stunted friendship. I escaped into another man’s arms for a night, so torn up about you, and broke his heart, for which I cannot forgive myself. I went home.
I ignored you pointedly during the day, but at night you would slip into my dreams, ever-changing, and yet the same person I had looked forward to spending any extra moment with. I tried to forget you, I looked for other people, but you were there in every person, every laugh, every smile. And then school started. We spend so much time together, I couldn’t ignore you anymore, I couldn’t ignore my feelings, complicated and confusing as they are.
Saturday night we talked. I told you how I felt about you, how I still am struggling to get over my feelings, but I didn’t tell you how much I’m struggling. We talked about how our friendship was important, and that nothing should change it, and then tonight. I had worried that I was going to hurt you when we talked, I knew it was a possibility, I guess I just hoped that you had moved over my as easily as you had.
You confessed to still having feelings for me, and I didn’t know how to react. You said that Saturday you were thinking it would maybe be the time we could start things up again, and I didn’t know how to react.
You said that you were afraid because you don’t trust yourself, but you want me still and I didn’t know how to react.
We never said “I love you,” I do not know if I did love you, but I do know this: I love you now. You mean more to me than you could ever imagine, and I can’t stand the thought of never having met you, and not having our friendship. You are so important to me. And I can’t stress that enough.
I’m not over you yet, and you’re not over me, where does that put us?