Letters to Lovers

It’s funny how I associate songs that are vulgar and shows about war and drugs only with you. But there you are, mixed in with all the bad things. Funny how that works.

I’ve been writing all these things down that I think of you on my iPhone; these sad moments where I wake up from dreams about you only to realize they haven’t come true and you’re a million miles away and my life is just the same as it has alway been. I wake up and write down all the things that I feel hoping it will be some sort of therapy. It’s not; it’s sad. I come back and see them two months later and I see all the desperate words willing you to love me, like me, or even just fuck me. I have none if these things from you; I hardly have your attention at all. I’m not used to chasing and I hate that I still do three years later. A simple compliment from you keeps me elevated for days, but I don’t know why when I know the reality of the situation is that is the last time I will talk to you in person for at least 6 months. The next time I see you I will be the same and you will be closer to being “grown up” with your house, car, guns and child. If only your child knew you thought of running away with me before she was born. If only I had the heart to remind you that once upon a time you said I make you feel special.

I’m completely confused about what I mean to you

It’s been completely surreal seeing you again. After years, and after all we’ve been through, suddenly I have you. You have grown so distant from everyone though, and for that I am sorry. I abandoned you at one of the worst times in your life, and for what? Something that is making me miserable, even still. I have been trying to be as honest as possible with you without you losing faith in me again.

I’m so sorry for doing this to you.

I have this inevitable tendency to over analyze, to say too much, or not enough. I say the wrong things at the wrong time. I am too honest at inappropriate times and keep my mouth shut at times when I should’ve said something. I am always clumsy, always tired, and always wanting more. I haven’t been really truly happy for longer than a few days, one of these times being last week. I have a less than desirable face, but can use it to my advantage. I have been around the ones I want to marry, so I know how to catch them and keep their attention. I am not the person you think I am, and you don’t know if this is good or bad. Then again, neither do I. I have been rejected only once in my life, and hope to never feel that again, although it grounded me for quite some time. I haven’t engaged in anything truly inspiring in years, and I used to be the one who inspired people. I have the unexplainable to run, but couldn’t find anywhere to stay if I did. I people watch, in hopes to find true love, as it seems almost impossible. I am jaded, cynical, self loathing and bitter. I have the patience of a goldfish unless I like you. And then you have my undivided attention. I am slightly shallow, slightly undeserving of most things that happen to me, and wholly inaccurate with my predictions on what I would’ve been doing with my  life. I am a small piece of a huge part of my life, and I haven’t found anyone worth fitting in with me. I once depended on people too much, and now I don’t depend on people enough. I am in love with a stranger, and in love with a best friend. And truly, honestly, unhappy with the situation I have put myself in. I am the one thing stopping me from doing what I want, and I am blaming it on everyone else. I have made a mockery of myself in front of people to gain attention. I have harnessed the ability to make people cry on my behalf, in spite of me loving or hating them. Just to know that I have the ability to. I am not the person that I want to be. I haven’t stopped crying in years, but can say that right now I am the happiest I’ve been in over a decade. I want to see how it all ends, but I am afraid to know the truth. I am vulnerable and wanted and nervous and unreliable. I am the person that you could love if you tried, but I am not the person worth your time. I am not worthy enough for you, but can make you happier than you’ve been with any other human being. I play to your strengths and exploit my own weaknesses. I am not alone in any of this.

sometimes, i feel like i’m not good enough for you. most of the time, actually.

i wonder why you have bothered to deal with me for this long, and why you haven’t just told me to leave you be.

i wonder if maybe i’m your last restort, and then i wonder why you would even need someone like me in your life. i’m not great. i’m not even good. and yet, you’re talking to me. i don’t make you, and you don’t have to, and i can’t seem to remember that in my self depreciating moments.

i am worth your time.

i have to remember that.

I want you. I want to be there with you, and know what you’re thinking and know your pain and your happiness. I want to know you better than yourself, so that when you’re sad and don’t know why, I can fix you. I want to run with you and lay with you and be with you and kiss you. I want to know that when you’re asleep and smiling, it’s because of me, not because of a secret you’re keeping from me. I want to be that person that you think of first when something funny happens. I want to be the most called in your phone, the name you write down more often than any other. I want to be the lips that you kiss when you wake up in the morning and when you go to bed at night. And really, above everything else, I want you to want me this way too.

I can’t get enough of you, and I hardly know you. You have me thinking about you all day, and when I go to sleep, I want to fall asleep fast, just so that I can wake up to talk to you the next day. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this, and I don’t think I know what to do with it. You put me in this magnificent place in my mind where I think, if I can get someone as perfect as you, why bother growing any more?

Then I realize… the more I grow, the more you’ll like me. I have become this person by myself, and I can only become an even better version of myself if you’re with me.

I haven’t been able to sleep a full night without taking some sort of medication since the night I saw you last. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you to tell me the truth about how you feel about me. The fact that you won’t is driving me crazy, and I know it’s because you don’t want to lose the status you have in everyone’s lives. Sometimes I wonder if, when you’re older, you’ll regret not telling me all of these things because then I won’t be around anymore. I’ll always be here for you, but never this way. Unless this gets resolved quickly, I have no choice but to tuck my emotions away and never bring them out again. I could try to give someone else the key, see what they do with it for a while. This sad little puppy dog look you give me always brings me back, and I can’t do this anymore. Why is it that I like you anyway? You’re everything I’ve wanted in another person, and most of what I want in myself. You have a sense of adventure, and I’m stuck here, being responsible with a job and a goal in mind. You’re asleep on a strangers floor right now and I’m up in the middle of the night again, worrying about what tomorrow will bring, or the next day, and so on, and so on, and so on. You have no idea how much I want to be you, how much I want to run with you, if no other reason than to just be free for a while. This whole being an adult thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and you know that. So why can’t I just understand that and convince myself of it?
I play these little neurotic games with myself by doing things I know I shouldn’t. Hurting people that haven’t done anything wrong to me. I could say it’s self defense, but in the scheme of things, it’s not. It’s because I can’t trust anyone anymore.

I have to write a letter to the person I hurt most. It has to be honest, and unmerciful. And I think I have to give this letter to him. I think it’s the only way I’m going to get any sleep tonight.
I really want to be next to you when I do this, but I haven’t even told you what has happened to me for all of these years.

It’s those small little things in life that make you wonder whether there is such a thing as fate, and I sort of wonder this with you. Truth be told, I don’t really know if I should be near you, you are so passive aggressive, and you bring out some interesting traits in me. But the strange thing is, there are so many odd things that I like about you, that I wish I could just have in every fellow human being. The optimisim that I wish I had, the courage, the intelligence. These things all make me want to be a better person, and thus make me want to be around you. You are officially addicting, but in all the right ways. Not the physical way, but the inspirational kind. While you may be particularly dapper, you are only a small portion of what I probably need in another human being right now. But, you are perfect to be around, because I feel myself smiling around you. I can get up and dance and you will dance with me, and you are so clever with your retorts to the words I say. You are like a slightly addicting drug that I want to take in the morning but don’t want lingering around the whole day. I want something fast, not a slow release capsule. You are not that type of person to be able to stand me for too much longer, you’ll soon realize this.

In the meantime, the oh-so-abstract coincidences are testing fate slightly, aren’t they?