You know how they say that when you meet that one person your life changes forever? Well you were that person. You changed my life, you changed me. But now that you’re gone, it’s like trying to learn everything all over again and I don’t even know where to start.
Lazy bum days. Just underwear and his shirt on. Eating something he whipped up in the kitchen in front of the TV. My hair in a mess and no make up on, but he doesn’t mind. It’s nice to not have to try so hard to look good with him. That warm, cozy, comfortable feeling. You don’t even have to go out to have a good time. The hum of the TV, the holding of hands, the sound of laughter brought by our favorite sitcom. I’ll be content with that. Nothing fancy. Just simple. Happy.
Falling asleep next to someone you love, someone you adore. Having his arm wrap around you. Accidentally uttering “I love you” in a soft whisper because you just couldn’t handle not saying it anymore. He says it back. Trying not to fall asleep, wanting to remember every moment and scared that if you fall asleep you might wake up with him gone. You memorize every feeling, even just the touching of your bodies, his hand resting on your hip. Moving you closer to himself. Feeling his warm breath on the back of your neck, tingling. Searching for your hand and entangles his in it. Watching his breathing slow to steady heaves. Watches as he drifts off and you just stare. You stay as quiet as you can, not wanting to wake him. You cuddle closer and his arm responds by holding you tighter. And when you wake up, he’s still there. It wasn’t a dream. This is real.
Itching to blurt out ‘I love you’ but is too afraid. Afraid of your reaction, afraid you’d think it was a joke, afraid you won’t say it back. So instead I say everything possible that may come close to equating to an ‘I love you’ and then feel really dumb for rambling.
His lips lingers, inviting, waiting for me to give in. Barely an inch apart he waits, he moves a bit closer and I fall apart in his arms and let him kiss me. He lifts me up. I try to hold on to my sanity as long as possible. My mind gets clouded and my body responds to him now. I’ve lost control.
“It seems like only yesterday we were kids. It was exhilirating riding shotgun. Joyrides at night, streetlamps merely streaks of light as we recklessly zoomed past, ignoring the speed limit. Blaring music and singing along. Going in circles because we didnt want the ride to stop. Getting lost. Drifting. Sand dunes. YOLO moments. Trying to make up for lost time but never will. Fuck it, we’re together again and I love it. I never wanted the night to end. We were together and those are the few moments I felt infinite.”
- an excerpt from my diary
There was this girl I once knew not so long ago. She was pretty and that served to be more of a curse than a blessing. She got wrapped up in her own drama way too young. She was naïve. She was introduced to heartaches at a young age and was played with and used. She loved adventure though, but searched for it in all the wrong places. She was a rebel and a free spirit and utterly curious. She tried things her mother and father always told her to say no to. The thrill of doing them and not getting caught gave her an adrenaline rush. She loved it.
“You still love him, don’t you?” He asks as if he’s certain the answer is yes. As if he doesn’t even need a reply. As if it’s a sin I’ve committed.
“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so” was all I could muster as a response. I glance up at his face and look away just as fast. I couldn’t bear seeing him look at me like this.
A long pause. We seem to have been both lost in thought.
“And what about me? What do you feel about me?” He asks, gently now, no longer angry. He takes a step forward and reaches to touch me but hesitates when I still don’t look at him. He puts his hands in his pockets instead and leans on the nearby wall. He looks down at his feet and I take my time to answer. This one needed a lot of thought.
“I know that I can trust you. I know that you won’t hurt me, at least not intentionally. I’m happy when I’m with you, like there’s hope for me. You know? I used to feel like I’d always hurt after he left but when I’m with you it’s like a morphine shot numbing everything that hurt and I didn’t feel it anymore. Almost as if I was high, and I loved it. I’ve become addicted to it. That’s why I couldn’t stay away when I knew you were falling and I couldn’t catch you. It’s not that I didn’t want you, I just COULDN’T yet. I’ve nothing to offer and I believe that you deserve someone who would give you the world…” I had more to say but nothing else came out. There were no words.
Another long pause. He seemed to be taking it in, one word at a time. He was watching me intently and I tried my best to hold his stare. I was almost hoping he had telepathic powers so that he could read my thoughts, understand them, and we wouldn’t have to have this awfully awkward and painful conversation.
“But that’s just it isn’t it? You let me fall even if you knew you ‘couldn’t’ catch me. And I fell hard. I hit rock bottom. And you just let me kept falling, just for what? To make you feel better?”
I couldn’t respond. He was right. Tears were trickling down my cheeks. A sob was ready to come out. I knew what was going to happen next and I was scared. He turned around and started for the door.
“Don’t.” He stopped. “Don’t go. Don’t leave too. Please.” We stood there in place for what seemed like ages.
He finally turned around and he was crying as well. I saw the anger, the anguish, the pain, in his face. He didn’t want to leave either. “I’ve nothing left for you either. What he did to you? He left you in ruins right? Well that’s what you’ve done to me. And you’re not leaving, you’re just going to keep at it until there’s nothing left of me. And I can’t have that. Love’s not supposed to do that.”
I watched him walk away and I knew then that I loved him too. And I let him walk away. Because I understood. I was just as bad as the boy who left me too. It was contagious. And if it didn’t stop now, it was going to spread like wild fire.
Early in the morning, late yet again for first period. I glance at the watch my father gave me and realize its 7:00am. First period is about to start. This is the 2nd time in a week that I fail to show up early enough for my first class but I’m surprisingly at ease.
I stare down the empty railroad willing the coming train to take its time. I want to enjoy this. Ahh, the sun. Bright and warm and perfect. Now I know why people greet each other a ‘good morning’. How can this not be good? I close my eyes and bask in the warmth. I pity the vampires who are deprived of such a wonderful thing. I peer into the sky, keeping my eyes half open, and see traces of the sandman’s dust dancing on my lashes. Glistening and sparkling under the rays of the sun, even they’re enjoying it.
I’m but a nobody. Watching from a distance, waiting in vain for a fairy god mother to pop up and make things happen just because I’m too scared to do it. That’s all I need—a push. I’ve always been the rebellious kind, the one that wasn’t afraid to jump into something uncertain just for the hell of it. When the fuck did I become so scared?