Three Years Ago
We’d gotten closer. We exchanged books and playlists, which was equivalent to sharing pieces of our souls. We shared secrets that we never told anyone else and it was the first time anyone would raise a fist to protect me. You gave me a book and I saw it as a way to tell me that you cared more than you let on.
I saw you crumble.
You were depressed, you were in a dark place and I didn’t know what to do for a while. I gave you the space and advice you needed. That was when I realized I knew you like a routine, I made sure that I didn’t tick you off or remind you of your crippling sadness. Instead I tried to get your smile and charisma back.
I desperately wanted you to be happy, even though I wasted so much of my time and energy trying to make that happen.
Two Years Ago
It was an unrequited sort of situation. Such a masochistic form of love, loving someone but not doing anything about it. Instead you were just there at a near distance. Looking at you was like looking at a literal what if, what could happen, but I was too afraid to lose it.
You were my Achilles’ heel, the only exception, and the reason for my cowardice. I had so many chances to say how I felt, but none of them felt right. Most of the time it was too late to reveal anything. Other times I tried to move on, only to find myself with assholes.
You were the mistake I couldn’t afford to make.
Summer rolled in.
I spent three months drunk and loud, and then mooned over another boy who had a fascination with my legs. I tasted freedom, vodka, and lips of a few regrets. But I did forget about you every moment I was in somebody else’s bed or arms.
Ten Months Ago
We were compatible in personality and interests, but it wasn’t fate that let us meet. It was random coincidences that lead us to each other. No destiny was working there, because I’m pretty sure the universe had better plans than trying to get us together.
It’s weird that it took me this long to write about us when there was never an “us” to begin with. You were the idea I fell in love with, you were the friend I trusted, and now we’re co-existing.
Maybe in five years’ time we will talk again. We would be mature by then. We would be different people by then, and maybe just maybe I would stop writing poetry about you by then.
Eight Months Ago
There’s this Jesse McCartney song from 2006 that applied so well to what I was feeling. It was a few months of tortured distance. I cried over you and tried to look for someone else to fall for. I did–the first one ended up being my best friend at the time and the second one broke my heart before Christmas.
Six Months Ago
I broke down and decided if you didn’t want me in your life, then so be it. I hated you. I wanted nothing to do with you and your name made my skin crawl. I made a sweeping declaration that I was finally over you.
Then we forgave each other. We talked again. You trusted me again. I still loved you.
Three Months Ago
I don’t want to look for you anymore, because your love created a monster that craved your validity. Your love burned my soul, questioned my innocence. Made me believe that my heart wasn’t worth keeping. My heart was better off breaking. Your love broke me and I had no idea where the pieces were.
Two Months Ago
I like him. I love you. I really like him. I loved you. Past tense.
One Week Ago
He said he wanted to rebuild me. I felt like I mattered.
He’s wonderful. He’s great. He’s not you, which is the best part, because why would I want another you?