I wish I told the world about us. It was the kind of relationship that started out as friends. Not because we weren’t attracted to each other, but because we discovered something more valuable. Our personalities clicked like magnets. We had at least a year of platonic, meaningful time together. Whether in deep conversations about our passions for life, goals and aspirations, faith; or the no-brainer moments of (your) silly – and honestly corny – jokes I just couldn’t help but laugh at. Even with my complicated baggage, being with you was just so easy and light on my heart. All the cares in the world seemed to evaporate around you, and I wish the world knew.
I wish I told the world about that chilly February night. It was a Friday, I remember. We were in my favorite coffee shop when you had spoken about your intentions with me. As you reached for my hand the first time, I felt the tingling sensation of both excitement and fear, which I believe poets have personified in butterflies. But they weren’t just in my stomach; they were in every in of my body, every corner of my mind. I swear, my heart literally beat a little harder, the room got a little colder, but your hand was all the warmth I needed. That’s when I knew it was genuine. And as much as I tried postponing the moment in fear that I’ll scare you away, that was the moment I discovered your love.
I wish I told the world how scary it was for me. My mind wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, or if I even needed to. But then again, I also didn’t want to ruin the wonderful possibility of genuine happiness with you because I feared exposing the truth that fateful night. And so I did. I laid it all on the table – every tiny, however dark, secret I held that even my best friend doesn’t know I still think about; and all the little, no matter how petty, insecurities I had about being alone, about being with someone, about being lost.
I must have wiped that coffee table at least a dozen times as I spoke in trembling strength.
And inch by inch, I felt your emotions retreat. Your eyes were set on me, but your heart was slowly sneaking to hide behind the walls I was building. Every word was a brick delineating the line between you and me. My tears fall and I see your handkerchief wet with the pain I caused. Why? I asked myself, but I knew they were truths that needed to be said, even if I wasn’t ready to speak them, nor you, ready to hear them. My only wish then was that in the middle of my dark past, you find a glimmer of hope for the future.
I wish I told the world that you did. That you, my dear, in all the scraps and broken pieces of my past, unearthed a chest of beauty. That was the moment I knew your love was relentless. You embraced every single thing I confessed, and melted all the walls I worked so hard to build. Because that’s what you do; because that’s what your love meant.
Your intentions were so pure that no history of mine, nor yours, can even begin to scratch the surface of the endless possibilities of our future together.
I wish I told the world the beautiful little things you do for me. After a long days work, you’ll still agree to give my feet a rub but because you knew I wanted them. Every moment with you had time running like a maniac. One moment we’re greeting good morning over your cup of coffee and my cup of tea, and the next, we find ourselves having to say good night again. Hours were just a snap of the fingers; days were a brush of the hair. Time never seemed enough with you.
I wish I told the world about us, and now I can’t. I don’t regret a thing, you told me. And I know you were telling the truth. The world would call it complicated, but really, that’s just how people describe anything they do not comprehend. They will never understand the adventure we had, and where, how, and why it had brought us here. Right here, right now. But then again, we don’t need the world to validate the truth of what we have – of what we had. And somehow, that gives me great joy that in a world of thousands of people, we had us. The beauty and indescribable relationship that was, is, and will always be, us.
I wish I told the world.
Now, I can only tell the world how sorry I am for breaking your heart.