It took a while to sort it out, but I realize now I’m mourning. I’m mourning the loss of a friend and companion. And I’m mourning the loss of what could have been. The potential of “us” haunts me still. And this is the marked third time I’ve truly been sad over this. And I can’t do it anymore.
You were a road trip buddy, a frolf partner, my fellow movie buff, my concert cohort, my in-the-kitchen-on-your-feet dancer, my lover and my friend. It was short in what was an official capacity – never officially made official – which officially drove me to unofficial madness. I turned into not myself it and haunts me still that had you been honest with me, and told me you had feelings for me when you did, it could have turned out so different. A kiss on the forehead was all I was going off of to show me you cared – and when I asked about you caring for me earlier in the year, before the unofficial official couple, you said you didn’t --- but you had kissed my forehead then. A lie.
And after a family death, when my heart was breaking to pieces, you dropped me like a ton of bricks because I couldn’t handle the pressure of wondering if I was falling for someone who couldn’t see past my tests and past the crazy parts insecurities and what-ifs with you lead me to - coupled with my bereavement. And vodka. Those enchanted moments were the ones that were actually me. Had you held me up when I was falling apart, every moment after that would have been enchanting. But you didn’t.
In an immensely unforgiving nature, we talked and realized it was all miscommunication, but you gave up – (with blatant honesty, I think you a fool for it. I
was am worth fighting for.). I asked to start over and you said “maybe we can become good friends and date again someday”. I wish now, you had never said that to me. My heart held out uncertain hope. Hope I wasn’t even aware existed till you recently said “it’s a little too late” as a retort to my “it’s never too late”. My body shook with anxiety and hopelessness. And then I watched your back walk into the room of another person’s (platonic) bed. I would never do that to you.
I have lost my friend, I realized. I have lost it all. And just weeks ago he was prodding me to hang out and play with him; days later throwing a tantrum. And then I’m left with my jaw on the floor. I know you were confused and I know you had feelings for me you were unwilling to admit or acknowledge. And it is with hindsight, realizing all these things, that makes me most sad. I am mourning the loss of something that I cannot shake thinking could have been so nice. Amazing, perhaps - if only just the once fleeting hope.
And I don’t cry often or much. But these past four months I have found to be not without struggle. Not without hope: And not without disappointment. I feel a fool to have let myself be led along – ignoring words, while giving clout to actions. Something I do in normal life, but maybe nothing about this, or you, was normal. I’m mentally and emotionally exhausted from reeling about this relationship, non-relationship, friendship, non-friendship. It’s unfair for you to play your games. I’m still hurt. I want to be friends, I do, but I can’t watch you not give a damn about me when it’s breaking my heart to know that what I have to do is lose someone that I had such a profound connection with: in music, and movies, and jokes, and laughter and penguins(…). Please be mindful of my heart. It put much more into this than yours and it’s still trying to recover. I would love my friend back, but I just can’t do it…yet. I feel lost.
I know we have to navigate being around one another, as we share many friends. I’m still trying to figure out how to do that. I miss what we had in the moments I forgot all the questions swirling in my head…those moments were truly enchanting to me; glimpses into the potential that still haunts me. And the reminders are tough when you bring up inside jokes or things only you know about me; it hurts like hell to ask you not to talk to me anymore right now. But perhaps, I fear, is necessity.
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