"He’s right there, waiting for you. You must be excited."
"I am, I am." I said. Although in all honesty, it seemed like I was trying to convince myself instead of saying what I was supposed to be feeling. I looked down for a while before staring at him.
"Go ahead." You smiled and it made my heart sink. I didn’t want to leave, but of course I didn’t tell you that. Five steps down, and I looked back at you and saw the way your eyes gave you away. I walked back to you and thanked you, again, for helping me find my way back. I started to increase the distance between us.
Walked a little. Don’t go back. A little more. Would I rather be comfortable or happy? Walk. Walk. I have to go back.
And then to your surprise, I ran to you and hugged you as tight as I could. “I couldn’t.”
You smiled and kissed me and
"I know. I love you."
At 12 years old, I was convinced I needed friends whenever I was sad. They would come up to me and say things like “it’s going to be okay” with their arms around me. I would claim to feel better because that’s what I wanted to make myself believe.
At 17, I realized it’s better to distance yourself from people when you’re not doing okay. It’s great having someone listen your problems and to receive advice from those you trust, but I’ve come to the conclusion that sometimes, all you really need is yourself.
College is amazing. Meeting new people is amazing. Opening up to friends and having them open up to you is amazing. It’s overwhelming and scary at the same time. I’ve always been open to meeting people, I just find it scary that they might not be as thrilled as I am.
I guess it’s safe to say that I’ve been carried away by all these changes. The first term’s almost over and I still can’t hold myself together. I haven’t been blogging, I haven’t been reading, I haven’t been writing.
Funny how you show up when I’m not even looking for you. Even funnier how you don’t have a clue.
And then it was 11 in the evening and I was feeling empty. My eyes scanning through your text, deep, deep sigh, reading it again, It’s just not the same anymore, blink back the tears, I don’t think I feel the way I used to.
I held my phone so tight, it felt like it was going to break. Three years in and you decide to send your feelings away through a text message, at eleven in the evening, because you couldn’t handle keeping it in anymore.
Why didn’t you make something up instead? Why couldn’t you just leave the place for real, and use that as an excuse? Because then maybe it would be better than It’s not the same anymore. Because I’m leaving this place for good would’ve left me feeling less abandoned.
Instead here I am, thinking about that Sunday afternoon about a year ago, with us sitting inside this beautiful cafe after barely making it through a fight. “Did anything change? Do you still feel the same about me even after what I just did?”, you asked me.
"Do you?" is what I would’ve answered, had I known about today. It’s what I should’ve answered.
Yes, was what I said instead.
Isn’t it so fucked up when someone does something really shitty to you and then you get mad at them but suddenly they start apologizing and being nice and you just don’t have the fucking heart to stay mad?!