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I hate feeling this way…
I didn’t expect you to carry a torch forever, I’m not so arrogant and selfish to presume you’d never have eyes for anyone else. I’m just enough that it hurts to know you moved on.
That you let go.
But what right do I have?
You were ready. You were willing. You’d dreamt of an us. But I simply couldn’t give you that; so I drew the line.
I was scared, still scarred from hurts of the past. Spiraling… I’d never forgive myself if I dragged you with me. And we both knew a long-distance romance would only fall apart. You needed someone you could physically touch. Hold. Kiss. That simply couldn’t happen a thousand miles away; and then it would’ve been all the more painful. Either I would’ve walked away for both our sakes, or we’d have betrayed each other. It was easier to keep you at arm’s length, though it felt as though my fingers still grazed your heart. Yours still touched mine. And now you feel impossibly far away.
I hate feeling this way…
This sinking feeling in my stomach anytime you’d even mention another.
“This receptionist at the gym was pretty cute.”
You told me I was beautiful.
“I may or may not have flirted with a girl I saw the other day.”
What about me?
“Movie date. Wish me luck!”
And that picture...she’s beautiful. Am I less beautiful to you now? Are you happy? I’m glad that you are. You deserve that, and so much more. More than I could’ve given you. And now, it all stops.
The late night talks and laughter. Reluctantly parting at five in the morning so we could finally sleep. Falling asleep on the phone just so we didn’t have to say goodbye. Grinning ear to ear from a simple text hello
Maybe I just wanted to hold onto you, even from a distance. Even in my dreams you were so warm. Safe. There were moments I simply didn’t want to wake up, if it meant I could live in the little world I’d built for the two of us.
A land of what ifs.
Are you really as cozy as I dreamt that night? Do you really smell like a home? What movies would *we* have watched, if given the chance? How would your lips have tasted? How many drinks would we have had until we were tipsy? Do doubt you’d outdrink me. What would we talk about on long walks together? Would our fingers fit together? Would your hands envelop mine? How long would your hoodies smell like you, until I gave them back? Would my hands caress stubble everytime I held your face? How often would I fall asleep in your arms? How often would you fall asleep in mine? Who’d win the most tickle fights? How would we settle disagreements? Would we stick it out until we came to a resolution, or separate and process and regroup? Would you finally let me see you at your lowest? Let me pull you out of that dark pit you've resigned yourself to, remove the weights you've put on your shoulders? Hold you, and wipe away your tears? When would I let you do the same? How often would we stare at one another, saying everything without saying a word? Would we argue about who adored who more? What other strange pet names would we have given each other? What would your tux look like? Our wedding cake? Where would you want to honeymoon? Italy, maybe? Would you be the big spoon, or the little spoon? Both? Probably both. Would I change my mind about children? Would I whimper and bite my fingers? Scream and claw your back? Would we fall asleep together, or talk endlessly? Would you braveface it while I squeezed your hand to welcome little ones into the world, or crumple from the pain and we’d laugh about it later? Would they have your eyes? Your freckles? I always wanted to have twins someday. How many children would you want? What would we have named them? I like the names Cyrus and Neoma. I hope they’d have been a boy and a girl. Would they have both of our last names? Would you have wanted only sons? Only daughters? A combination? Would they all grow up to be as tall as you? Would you tower over them? I’m sure no matter what, they would’ve been beautiful. Would you be a house husband, or the breadwinner? Would you mind either way? I already know how much we’d both appreciate the little things, how frustrated we’d get for not letting each other spoil one another. How we’d both cave anyways.
The question worth asking is: could we be what we needed for each other?
Could she be that for you? I hope so. You’re so, so wonderful. Funny, smart, kind, sometimes too selfless for your own good, and I’ve never known someone as strong willed and motivated as you, so eager to motivate others. Of course, you have your flaws. We all do. But you’ve always strived to improve yourself, even in the littlest ways. I think that’s one thing I love about you the most. And I know you’ll continue to do just that. Even if it’s from a distance, I can’t wait to see what you both blossom into, and I know you’ll make her happy.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish it was me, some days.
I may not know what it means to be *in* love, but I do know that, with you, I would’ve made it there eventually. And, even though I haven’t, I love you nonetheless. Just not in the way you would’ve wanted, or needed. Not in the way I could even let myself. But I do love you enough not to tell you.
How could I? What would really change? What kind of friend would I be?
And how fair would that be to you?
To either of us?
I wish I didn't feel this way. I wish I could be nothing but overjoyed for you.
But envy has poisoned that.
Still, if I really love you—if I'm really your best friend…you can never know. And I need to let you go.
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