Letters to X: It’s Not You, It’s The Idea Of You

Conceptual-Photography

We weren’t together for very long. Okay, maybe we weren’t actually together at all. I never jumped the gun about what we were, but it was hard not to see. You loved the world as much as your friends and family. But you had me believe that we were some form of a partnership, and that’s really what that matters.

Because it happens again the talking stopped. You always does it keeps me hanging. We went from friends with a possible future to nothing. That’s clear to me, if anything. I have my suspicions of why you walked away, why you chose to hurt me. And it almost aches more this way. Knowing that we could be together right now but something stopped you. All I can think of is you get tired because you tried your best to always ask me out unfortunately I can’t make time for you because of my priorities and schedule. I’m sorry! I can’t blame you for stop talking to me because people don’t like waiting for nothing. Maybe you thought you were no good for me, that I couldn’t or shouldn’t deal with your problems. Maybe I’m just afraid of letting anyone love me or get too close. But that’s okay, I didn’t really have my hopes up. Because of this you made me see that you’re not different from the boys I’ve met. Boys who easily give up because things get harder. Okay, yes, I sound like a bitter bitch here! I think its fine that this happened before anything get serious, before the love, the feelings fully bloom.

It’s always been like a rocket launch gone wrong – all the hype and anticipation building up to one incredible moment when you lift off and think that this time it will work, this time we’ll be clear, this time we’ll shoot straight past the stars. But something always goes wrong, and as we watch the explosion, fire reflected in our eyes, I wonder if you are also silently questioning what we could have done better. I didn’t want exciting. I wanted steady, and strong, and protective. I wanted to wake up knowing that you were still there, that you were still mine. I was done with games. You’re gone now though, so perhaps I’ll never know for sure.

Yes, in spite of all this and the time that’s passed, I still thinking of you.  I hate that I do because I know you do not. You are busy getting on with your life, and I don’t matter anymore. So, am I. I’m taking forward with my life too. At the risk of sounding desperate, I’ll admit that I miss your messages. I miss you texting me knowing how my day was. The thing is, I’m not sure if it’s really you I miss, or the idea of you. It’s likely a little of both, but I don’t know how to separate the two, and the image in my head is so lovely that I’m not sure I want to.

No, I wasn’t quite in love with you. I was in love with all of the things I hoped our relationship could be, all the things I wanted to know about you. I was in love with the possibility of falling in love with you, and it’s the idea I haven’t been able to shake out of my head in the months since we stop talking.

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To be continued –> Letters to X: Summer Romance in a Fiction

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