I don’t understand how our hearts work sometimes.
As soon as you feel at home in your own skin, you start missing someone. As soon as you begin to slip into love, you wonder what it feels like to be independent again. It’s like your heart is indecisive, unsure of what it wants, but when it gets what it’s been searching for, suddenly becomes hesitant.
I thought I knew what I wanted, but my heart always plays tricks on me.
My heart confuses me in dreams, bringing me to people and places I’ve tried so hard to run away from. My heart makes me look at the world differently, calling back memories of long summer days fading as the leaves change.
Every time I look outside I’m reminded of you. It’s unfair.
I wonder if it’s too late to tell you that I still think about you. That November reminds me of scarves and our cold hands, early nights watching the sunset, feeling that Midwest winter slowly creep in.
I wonder if it’s too late to tell you that I still have that silly stuffed animal you gave me, and it still smells faintly of your cologne. I wonder if it’s too late to tell you that I saved all our pictures, and I still write about you, so many letters I’ll never send.
I wonder if it’s too late to tell you I miss you, and the way you made me want to stop running and simply live in the moment, breathe it in.
My heart’s doing that silly thing it does, where it reminds me of all I’ve lost and tugs at me, saying that no matter how good I feel on my own, I still want to be loved. I do. But damn that foolish heart of mine, always searching for what it doesn’t have. Always running. Running away.
I thought of you today and I wondered if it was too late to tell you I love you. To tell you that as much as I’ve pretended to be far away, I’m really right here. I’m really just running in circles. I’m really still hoping.
I wonder if it’s too late to tell you that you were my favorite mistake.
And I’d make it all over again.