Dear Boy I Almost Loved,
I want to start off by saying, well played.
I never fully expose myself to anyone with the fear of losing people's attention. I like to think of myself as a book with no last page. I crave to keep my reader swimming through my chapters, searching for the scattered puzzle pieces to complete me, but there's one catch; no one get's to finish the book. It's a version of playing hard to get; a type of hide-and-seek merged with a hint of tag to keep the youthful spirit alive blended with mystery and addiction to hook my victims and make them come back for more.
With that being said... you found the loop-holes. You took a self-interested, lost, and delicate little girl with hair equally as messy as her thoughts and played her at her own game. It was a silent war, one in which you attacked every weak spot I had, breaking down my walls and leaving me naked and vulnerable to your abandon and absence.
I don't know if you had this planned from the beginning, since at the start, I clearly had the upper hand. I remember telling you that I wasn't going to fall in love. I had no interest in something serious with you because I knew you would never be capable of understanding the dark corners and vacant streets of my head. But you clearly liked challenges and I liked to be challenged. I left you wadding in the shores as I swam out to deep sea calling your name. I craved the chase and you fed into my desire to be loved at a distance... or at least I thought.
I like to think those months were real. I like to think that you were genuine with me. The way you spoke to me made my heart scream in a million languages, sending unrecognizable feelings racing through my veins as I tried to decipher what this was... what we were. You became a new experimental drug injected into my system that I was still trying to decide if I liked the high. With every touch, every kiss, every late night visit, I became more confused. I didn't want to accept the fact that you were sending me falling through a delirium of mixed feelings. I began fighting with myself, with my heart that said to let you in and my head that said to keep you out.
You made me fall for your illusion. I no longer had control; there was a new force steering me down this winding road and my feet couldn't reach the brake pedal. I became infatuated with the thought that a simple drop could turn into waves but this rain storm was soon to end.
You left me thirsty in a desert of confusion. I no longer had walls covering up my emotions, I left the parachute on the plane and the risk of crashing and burning seemed worth it. (key word... seemed)
When I took off the rose colored glasses and your friends magnified the truth to a size where I could understand the reality in which I was living in, I tried looking for my bulletproof cage in which to store my heart again but there was no use, you had done your damage, I was too far into the hole, and there's a point of no return and I had clearly crossed it.
I got used to the routine of waking up feeling like nothing in the same arms I feel asleep in the night before when the world belonged to only us. The quick and empty dialogues exchanged, the misunderstood sarcasm thrown, and the minute long hugs where we said more to each other with silence than with words. I knew I didn't belong tangled in your presence; we both knew that. The placebo effect got the most of me and you became an expert at holding back feelings that once spilled over easily and left puddles for me to wade in.
See, I like to think that the distance we silently placed between us in the weeks that followed, both physical and emotional distance, would help erase this from my past. You tried to mask my trace with the smell that other girls would leave on your bedsheets; I tried to condense you, condense this, into shitty love poems and infusing myself in a complicated long distant relationship with a guy who lacked the presence you had to spare.
They say time heals all wounds but what they don't tell you is about the ugly scar that's left. That's the danger when playing with permanent marker, you stain the fragile bits of your life in the most careless of ways.
I hate to admit it but your fading memory still haunts me, the image of your head bobbing on stage, the way you use to sing to Red Hot Chili Peppers in your jeep with the wind rustling your hair while I stared at you from the passenger seat, the extreme care you put into every joint you rolled and how you let the smoke out of your lungs in the most passionate way. I can still feel your silhouette in my bedsheets, your chest that became my favorite pillow, and how I always looked forward to the morning conversations over your mom's black coffee and my middle school playlists gently whispering stupid love cliches from my car's speakers.
But I learned my lesson. I'm not as strong as I think I am and I'm still not comfortable with that. I guess what I'm trying to say is that when one becomes so lost in the endless games of never letting one's walls down, you start running into them. Sometimes the only way to wake up is with a rude awakening and you gave me just that. Leaving the aftertaste of my own medicine on my tongue infused with your soft kisses that sent me to the moon.
I don't regret anything. I don't regret almost leaving him for you. I don't regret investing so much of my time and energy into a boy that was not capable of comprehending the complexities that make up who I am (something I do not blame you for either). But most of all, I don't regret almost loving you. I don't regret taking a chance on something so amorphous as what we had. To say the least, I owe you my gratitude for the life lesson I could not teach myself, for the awakening that made me transform my ways, but most of all, for showing me how to lose; how to lose my game, how to lose my pride, and how to lose you.
Now that we've both parted ways, different parts of the country, different community of people, different motives and experiences, I hope that what we had will at least live in a memory for the two of us. I live with the hope of still calling you a friend although we don't speak like we used to. I live with the hope to see you once again and see you with different eyes.
At the end of all of this, I'm not going to lie, I'm still waiting on that song you said you'd write for me.
Girl Who Almost Loved You