You know who you are. We spent a month together. A crazy, confusing, wonderful, emotional month. We saw each other every day. You tore down my walls. You held me at night, and you revealed more to me about yourself than you had to anyone in a long time. In return, I let you in. I trusted you. I was high on you. I fell in love with you. You were perfect, everything I had ever imagined. I allowed myself to picture a future with you. And then you were gone.
Gone without a word. One day, everything was normal, we were close, we were seeing each other. The next, you were busy with family but we were still talking; everything was fine. I didn’t think much of it. The next, you were gone.
I don’t think I can properly put into words what it felt like when you disappeared from my life. As I sat, for days, staring at my phone, willing it to light up. Coming up with every possible scenario in which you couldn’t text me and hadn’t just left. Maybe he lost his phone and is ordering a new one….Maybe he went away for the weekend with family and there is no cell service….Maybe he got into a car crash and is in the hospital in a coma…Maybe…maybe…maybe. Or maybe what I was afraid of was true. That you just didn’t want me anymore. And that I would never know why.
Unfortunately for me, women seem to be hard-wired to go a little off the deep end when the men in their lives act sketchy. Not that this doesn’t necessarily make sense, or isn’t completely justifiable, but it certainly makes things more difficult for everyone involved. You see, if you had just come to me, come to me and told me that you had met someone else. Or that you just didn’t see us working. That you didn’t like me like you thought you did. That I wasn’t the one. I would have understood. Sure, it would have been a tough conversation to have, but ultimately I would have understood. And I would have had so much respect for you, for respecting me enough to be upfront with me. But that’s not what you did. You left and I turned into psycho-bitch who sends like seven texts in a row and then turns around and calls twice because my mind and emotions went from I’m-so-angry-I’m-gonna-give-him-apiece-of-my-mind, to hurt beyond belief, to OHMYGODHESREALLYDEAD, and everywhere in between.
It’s been around eight months since you came and went from my life. Since I dropped off your stuff on your doorstep with a letter begging you to contact me and tell me what happened…that I didn’t hate you for leaving and wanted to make it work if you did. Since I made a total fool of myself.
I still see you around campus sometimes. We never speak or smile, but instead just pretend like we don’t see one another, and avoid eye contact. Like an unspoken agreement.
I wonder about you often though. How you’re doing, how your family is, how your classes and grades are, if you still enjoy your fraternity. But every time I wonder how your life is, I also come back to wondering about why you did what you did. I want to ask you all of these things, but I won’t. And then I hope and pray that you have realized what a horrible thing that was to do to someone, and will never do it again. That’s my biggest wish.
It’s nice to be able to look back and not hate you for breaking my heart. To look at my life now and know that maybe I wouldn’t be where I am in my life if I was still with you. That I probably wouldn’t have gone on to meet my best friend and absolute love of my life.
You’ll always be the one that got away, but I will never long for you like I once did. You made a mistake, but I understand that you were (are) young and stupid. Instead, I just miss being able to call you my friend. I sincerely hope that everything in your life is wonderful and that you are happy. And that you find a fantastic girl someday. You’re a good person and have a bright future. I’m sure you’ll make the most of it.