To the idiot that got away,
You should know that my best friend doesn’t miss a chance to remind me about all the better things I can do with my life than wait for a guy who did not have the guts to love me. And how my sister thinks it’s her duty to make sure I know I deserve better. And my mother? Well, she just looks at me with an expression that says I understand but it’s been a while now. It’s time to let go.
They will always see you as the guy that left and nothing more. But I can never do that. Because I can’t stop seeing you as the guy that stayed through all my tantrums and mood swings, the guy that after a fight almost teared up and told me that he is so afraid of losing me. And I know they’ll say that words don’t mean anything if actions don’t back them up, and you know what, maybe they’re right. Maybe I needed someone who would have fought for me, who would have been so sure about wanting me he wouldn’t have cared about anything else. But hope is a wicked thing because it keeps telling me that if I wait, just a little longer, you might eventually become the person I deserve.
Though really, who am I kidding? We both know you ain’t coming back and somewhere deep down, I know I have stopped waiting. But not wanting you back doesn’t make me want to stop missing you. I still replay your laugh a million times before I go to sleep. Every poem about heartbreak and love still reminds me of you. I miss our 4ams and I miss my nickname. I miss the Heyyyyyyys and I miss your I love you’s.
And despite all this time every imagined scenario is still tied so intimately with the idea of you and a happily ever after. You stay – you come back – you don’t let me walk out of that door on the 7th floor – you don’t let me keep that door open in the first place; you do everything so differently in my head. And more the distance grows between us, the more I spend my time there, wondering about every possible what if…
You once told me that you’ve thought about every possible outcome too, that sometimes you couldn’t sleep at night because you kept thinking about us, and that the decision you made was keeping in mind the happiness of everyone around us. Well everyone, except for me and you.
You know what I simultaneously hate and love about our story? Hate that we never really said goodbyes the way they should have been said, punctuated by a single full stop. But love that it is an ending so full of potential for an anticipated sequel.
Until that happens and even if it doesn’t, I hope you’ll know that no amount of time or distance could diminish what we had. You’ll always live in the pages of my diary. In between the lyrics of my favourite song. Hidden somewhere in my gallery, in an album I’ll try very hard not to open.
But will fail every time.