I just realized how we ended up here. This whole time you’ve just been scared out of your mind. You were overwhelmed with the pressure from me. From the distance. You were too scared to tell me, to work it out. You were tired. You were so damn tired of it all. And I was blind. I couldn’t see the frustration. The agony, the loneliness in your eyes. We were five hundred miles apart, nine hours by car, four by plane. We were young. You had so much going on at home, and I was terrified about college. We were both working on us all the time. You didn’t know how much it would hurt me. You only knew it felt right at the time. So you ran. You ran as fast and as hard as you could to anything, anyone.
She happened to be convenient. You knew her. She was by your side every night at work. She wasn’t five hundred miles away. She was beautiful. She is beautiful. So you took your chance. You grabbed on, kissed her, rubbed her, and went to bed with her. Her one year old was probably in the next room over. I was waiting at home to see you. But I was scarred too.
I was afraid I was holding you back from living life. I made you quit smoking, I changed you. I knew it too. And every day I hated myself for it. Because I knew it was wrong. I knew you’d go back. Because it was who you were and it was who I fell in love with. So why would I change that? I didn’t know, but I wanted you to be happy again. To be you again. I didn’t expect it to backfire so horribly. I had messed up too much for too long. I stripped away your originality. Your innocence. Your passion.
Before you ran I noticed you stopped going out, because all your other friends did things that I hated. Every day you made sacrifices for me. Suddenly you stopped playing guitar. You stayed home all day to talk to me. I caged you. You stopped drawing. You seemed so unhappy. And I wanted so badly to make you happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I just never knew how to do it. I didn’t realize I messed up so badly.
So I let you go out. And smoke. And do whatever you needed to do, to become you again. But this resentment built up in you. This anger. You had fought for this freedom for so long, and now you have it. Now you must escape while you can.
You did. She helped you escape me.
I cried for weeks. I ran out in the snow the day before Christmas. I was barefoot. I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe. My mother screamed at me to come inside. My brother led me in and held me as I cried for so long and so hard. You were on your way to her house. I was alone.
I tried to kill myself the next day. I hated myself. I needed you to care about me again. I needed you to need me. That backfired too. I scared you shitless. You were crying in front of your mother. I was five hundred miles away, lying in my bed not wanting to live anymore. Not wanting to live without you.
I was too scared to continue. I thought maybe I could still get you back. I watched so many videos on “how to win back your ex.” I tried everything. But you were too scared. Too angry. And now you were free. Free to go out. Free to love without being pressured by hundreds of miles. Free to be who you wanted to be. You got caught up in the fun. You were now sharing responsibility of a one year old and you slept every night with her mother. I tried to get your attention anyway I could, but nothing worked.
I lost you.
I sent back everything you gave me. I changed my number. I was so depressed I didn’t apply to any colleges. I didn’t care about my future unless you were in it.
Months passed and I dated someone for a while. And while I enjoyed the distraction I still cried myself to sleep every night. I was still in love with you. I put on fake smiles every day. I kept my thoughts about you to myself as much as possible. I thought about you every day all day. I figured I’d move on soon. I’d forget about you, after all you were five hundred miles away.
But I never did get over you.
I got closer to my friends, who helped me tremendously. I succeeded in competitions plays. I took sign language. And I kept working. I tried to stay as busy as possible. I didn’t want to think about you. But no matter what I was doing you were on my mind. Four months later I hear that you are expecting your first child with the woman you cheated on me with. My life crashes in front of me. I realize you will never be mine again. I realize how stupid I was for hoping. How stupid I am for still hoping.
Six months later. I graduated high school and moved to Pennsylvania. I left behind my therapist, who had spent the last six months trying to help me understand you, and then forget you. I began to understand, but I never forgot.
I looked forward to a new state with new opportunities and people. I’ve met many, slept with a few, but no one compares to how I feel about you. With a baby on the way I’m certain you are terrified and excited. I’m in your past, maybe you think about me every now and then. But I am no longer significant to you. I am simply the girl who wouldn’t let go. Who stalks you on the internet and who emails you sometimes. And frankly, I’m rather annoying to you.
Your fiancé hates me. She wonders why I won’t move on. She thinks I’m obsessive. That I’m weird. And possibly that I’m psychotic. Maybe you think so too.
My birthday passes, all I want is to hear your voice. That won’t happen this year.
Your birthday passes and I send you a message “happy birthday.” No response.
It has been 364 days since you left me. Your baby is welcomed to the world. You ask for your girlfriend’s hand in marriage while she is in labor. You’re scared. You’re nervous. You don’t know what is right and what is wrong. But you think this is right. You don’t want that baby to wonder. To ask questions. You want her to know who her mom and dad are. So you ask. “Will you marry me?” She responds between contractions “It’s about time!”
You tie the knot in March. It has been over a year since you left me alone in the snow crying. Over a year since you ran away as fast as you could. You were so scared. Terrified. But you made your choice and stuck by it.
I see the pictures. I see the fear in your eyes. The tiredness pulling on your face. You’re tired of guessing what’s wrong and what’s right. You’re tired of running and tired of being scared. You think you made the right choice. You love her. You’re madly in love with her. You love your baby and her two year old. You have your own family. How could you leave? But now you’re feeling trapped again. Slowly your identity is being torn away. You are now a father. A husband. And you’re only twenty-one. She’s only eighteen.
And you’re still scared. And I’m still in love with you. And tonight I realized it doesn’t matter how many kids you have or how many wives you marry throughout your life. I wouldn’t care on your 30th wedding anniversary. No matter what I will never forget you, I will never spend a day out of love with you. I would never miss an opportunity to have you back. I will forever love you unconditionally.
Maybe I am psychotic. Maybe I am crazy. But if given the chance to try again, I would love you for you. I would never try to change you. I would be on your side and we’d even out the playing field. You’d be happy and that would be my first priority. I’m hopelessly in love with you. And I know you’re scared.
If you need a place to run, I’ll be here.
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