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Archive for January, 2013

A year ago I met you. A month later we had our first date, 6 months later you left. I never told you this because the past is the past, however I have been with so many men in my life that it all adds up. When everyone else was in long lasting relationships I was just shacking up. So when I met you, I knew our time together was special from the first night. I knew we clicked. You just got me. I knew I would have a really hard time letting you go, you didn’t make it easy. I wish I could hate you and move on, my girlfriends aren’t to fond of you- however they are desperate and when the relationship doesn’t amount to a “bf/gf” status within a month they are ready to kick their men to the curb. Though prior to the non status change they were oh so in “love”. I was oh so in love, for the right reasons, I think. If you take into account that you learn something from each relationship you encounter then I have to say I have learned a lot about love, men, dating, sex etc.

And you were different, We were different and this is why I can’t move on. I write you notes all the time, obviously they always go unsent- because why bother, it won’t bring you back and may even scare you. So the email you sent me the other day, made me realize that you, us we were different then anything I had ever experienced before. You are not my bf, and you told me yourself probably wouldn’t be for at least 5 years, because that’s when you thought you would be the right age to be someone’s bf. I don’t think it was an excuse, you were logical and it made sense. Our age difference is so crucial in how this all plays out, I’m not going to tell you this, but I want babies, I am in the right place in my life- however I would never want to rob you of your 20’s, I think those are important times for a young stud such as yourself.

I never felt as free as I feel with you. Even though we shoot a couple of monthly emails and have not seen each other in 6 months, somewhere inside my mind I have hope. I know that my heart is safe with you, maybe it’s because you haven’t found anyone else to love, IDK nor do I want to know. I feel safe with you. I told you I missed you yesterday, and you told me you missed me too. That made me feel safe. It’s just a feeling I get when you are on the other end of the computer, or all the times we shared. Being with you I let it all go, told you my hopes, dreams, wants, wishes and fears. I think you shared yours with me (even though yours will change over time). You wanted to help me get over my biggest fear just to prove to me that being fearful is pointless, and that if my fear happens no big deal you would be right there to help me. I like your honesty, or at least I hope you are honest- my gut tells me you are. My intuition tells me, to trust my gut so I am.

I could probably be away from you forever and never fill the void, I hope it’s not the case. I’m just not sure how we would really ever make this work. You hate NY- NY is my life. I want to be your friend forever but I know there’s going to come a point when it will hurt too much and I will have to say goodbye forever……

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Dear Beau,

We got lost somewhere along the way. You said “something happened to what we used to be” and yesterday I figured it out. You lost yourself. My shrink once told me “people change but their essence remains the same.” You were still that gorgeous guy that played guitar late at night, watched series with his dad and liked wine. What I’m trying to say is, you changed, you stopped trying to make us work.

And it’s okay. We’re young and I shouldn’t have expected so much out of you. You weren’t ready to be my person. You weren’t ready to tell your friends about me, travel together, introduce me to your family or talk about our future. It was a dead end relationship from the very start. But it was beautiful. So goddamn beautiful and fuck anyone who says otherwise.

We were two people in love. God, I still love you. I think a part of me always will. Right now, I am setting you free. I don’t hate you or resent you for not putting in as much as I did. I understand you weren’t ready.

I wish you the best. If you got back together with your ex, good for you, she’ll give you whatever I couldn’t.

Goodbye, this will be the last letter I write you. It will go in the box where I kept all of your unsent love letters. It will be hidden in my closet, far away from view, under a lock, with a thousand other memories I’m not strong enough to dust off.

Always,

G.

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How I wish I had never met you,

How I wish I would stop feeling this way.

But instead,

I wish you were here,

I wish I could reach out and touch you again.

I wish I could make you happy,

and secretly exult at that.

Sometimes I wish I were her,

just to know what it feels like to be loved by you.

I wish you would call me again,

even if it’s at 1a.m in the night.

Or I wish I could give you a call instead,

and say I love You,

’cause I really do.

I wish I didn’t worry about you so much.

I wish you were nothing to me, like how I am nothing to you.

I was so sure that when this day came, it would be over,

that I would have forgotten your touch, your voice,

your all-knowing-smile,

that you would become a distant memory.

Oh how I wish…

I wish I had the answers, wish I knew the reasons.

I should be glad the wistful year ends tomorrow,

But I secretly wish it didn’t and I stayed right here.

Right here with you.

I never moved on, I just learnt to live with your absence 🙂

I wish you would reappear,

Wish you would give me your heart this time,

or at least give back mine?

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I heard a story about you today, it made my heart skip a beat and cry even more. You gave yourself two black eyes last christmas because you were alone, and depressed. I hate that. I love you. You left and pushed me away, you never responded. Fuck you. I wish you were here next to me now, I wish I could hug you and save you from yourself. I love you so much but why can’t you let anyone in. I didn’t realize you did not go home to live with your parents because you do not like them. I am sad about that too. I don’t get it, what could make you hate everyone and everything so much? You are a likable person, trust me if you were not I would not have fallen in love with you. The things you said to me, the way you made me feel. In my entire life noone has ever made me feel as special as you made me feel. You always knew exactly what to say. you wanted to comfort me, you followed me down the block to make sure I was ok. You bought me pepper spray so I would be safe while you were not around to protect me. You held my hand, you gave me chills. You told me I was an amazing looking adult. You told me the only time you were happy was when you were with me. Let me make you happy- I love you so……come back..yes eternally hopeful.

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I wrote down a list of books on a scrap paper and drove to the bookstore this morning. I was in search of self-help mainly, and a few scattered feminist novels because at 3 months I’m still in need of cheap therapy to move on from you. But, I didn’t make it to self-help. I don’t want some book to put you, me, or us in a box and to rationalize my experience. I don’t want a false guide to trash you and tell me my dream was unreal. Life is only the story you give to it. “We” were only ever the stories each of us gave to “us.” There is no other reality than that – for others to think there is one version of the truth is foolhardy. Those people enjoy sameness and feel satisfied when life turns out shitty – just the way they predicted it would. I do live in an imaginary world, but it’s always been a place I’d rather be. You are there – and you are lovely.

So, I bypassed the self-help section because the pull of the fantasy room drew me in too deep. The fantasy room at Powell’s bookstore is you. It is the center surrounded by all the other room’s colors. Adjoining it to the left is orange for business; blue to the right for fiction. Directly above is red for religion and foreign language, and above that is purple for politics and law. But you, right in the middle of the massive warehouse, are gold – a metal, not a color. The room is protective of the readers that wander its shelves, just like you – always pulling outsiders in. The readers feed back a shared and unspoken secret that lies in the acceptance of a transgressive world.

I sat down on one of the benches and watched how a reader scans the shelf for his book. Before he lifts it off, he will touch and admire the spines of all the others, hence completed from a series or from a favorite author, remembering the beginning and the journey fondly. Then he will select his book. Each reader knows the immediate urgency for the next book, to read all 920 pages of the 14th installment of the series (and sometimes before he can get to the cash register). There is no other room where so many of the customers post up and read – one is lucky to find a seat! But, at the same time, no one is actually present in this room. For this is not a room, it is a portal. The eyes of each reader relaxed and set in the direction of, and becalmed in, a far-away distant world.

Maybe this is what happened between you and me. The fantasy of us enveloped both of us in the beginning. Then, the reality didn’t match the fantasy and you lost interest. You went back to your tried and true fantasies. If only you would give me another chance, I would be a portal for you into a world that is not this world. I cannot understand why you left me, but I think I may understand why you left for the woods. It only makes sense that you are out in the wilderness in another fantasy adventure.

The ruin of it all is that I wouldn’t have seen you like I see you now had you stayed. I was caught up in fear and too overworked to see you and honor you like I should have. With your absence, I have all the time in the world to think about it. Do you think about me? Is there a place in you that you have reserved a possibility for you and me or have you foreclosed us completely. It bewilders the mind to think – can it be possible for only me to feel this way? Is this the way a mother feels about her children? A one-sided love? Can romantic love exist in only one person?

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