We’ve gotten closer; we exchanged books and playlists which were equivalent to sharing pieces of our souls. We shared secrets that we never told anyone else and it was the first time anyone would raise a fist to protect me. You gave me a book and I saw it as a way to tell me that you cared more than you let on.
It was also during those six months I saw you crumble.
You were depressed, you were in a dark place and I didn’t know what to do for a while. I gave you the space and advice you needed. That was when I realized I knew you well like a routine, I made sure that I didn’t tick you off or reminded you of your crippling sadness. Instead I tried to get your smile and charisma back.
I desperately wanted you happy even though I wasted so much of my time and energy trying to make that happen.
It was an unrequited sort of situation. Such a masochistic form of love, loving someone but not doing anything about it instead you’re just there at a near distance. Looking at you is like looking at a literal what if, what can happen but I was too afraid to lose it.
You were my Achilles’ heel, the only exception and the reason for my cowardice. I had so many chances to say how I felt however none of them felt right. Most of the time I’m too late to reveal anything. Other times I try to move on only to find myself with assholes.
You were the mistake I couldn’t afford to make.
Summer rolled in.
I spent three months drunk, loud and sober and then mooned over another boy who had a fascination with my legs. I tasted freedom, vodka and lips of a few regrets. But I did forget about you every moment I was in somebody else’s bed or arms.
When I wrote “I never minded chasing you” I was referring to you and not him.
We are compatible in personality and interests but it wasn’t fate that let us meet. It was random coincidences that lead us to each other. No destiny working there because I’m pretty sure the universe has better plans than trying to get us together.
It’s weird that it took me this long to write about us when there was never an “us” to begin with. You were the idea I fell in love with, you were the friend I trusted and now we’re co-existing.
Maybe in five years’ time we will talk again. We would mature by then. We would be different people by then and maybe just maybe I stopped writing poetry about you.
There’s this Jesse McCartney song from 2006 that applies so well to what I’m feeling at the moment.
I like him. I love you. I really like him. I loved you. Past tense.
He’s wonderful, he’s great and then I’ll say “he’s not you.”
Which is the best part because why would I want another you?
Thanks for not ignoring me.