newkiss

I might still write this in a piece of paper one of these days and send it to you. Maybe. It's been eight months. We've talked. We've cleared the air. You finally told me you loved me still, and I-- well, I turned you down. I never thought I would, you know. I never thought I'd have it in me to say what I said. To say no. To tell you I can't. But there you go. I said it, and here we are. Why the hell did you wait so damn long to realize what was so plain to the entire world? And, ****, why did you wait even longer to tell me about it! The truth is I know the answer to all my questions. That's yet another thing that saddens me. I know you so well. I know everything about you. I know the motivations behind your actions. I know the reasons behind your inactions. I know. I know all your flaws. You probably knew all of mine, too. And the truth is, as horrible as everything turned out to be, we loved each other with a passion that belied logic. We loved each other to the very end, and way past it. We just got lost in navigating through our own personal ****. I know all this, but-- oh, god, but I still wish you would've fought for me. I wish you had the presence of mind not to let it escalate to this miserable end, even if I didn't. Then again, you are what you are. If you acted any differently, you wouldn't be you. And hadn't I loved all of you for all the years we had been together? Even that part of you that stormed out the door that night. Because, in the end, I know you still loved me. How could I not love that? God, we had so much growing up to do. We still have so much growing up to do. And while we've changed so much in the past months, I still don't see a way for us to be able to work. Because if we need to grow up, doesn't that mean we need to change? And if we're changing now and we continue to change, how will we know if we'll still love the grown-up versions of ourselves? That, too, makes me so damn sad, I often don't know what to do with the emotion. Now, I echo your words to me from a couple of weeks ago. "I have feelings for you." I do. I couldn't say them to you then, because I was so numb from god-knows-what, but there you go. I still feel things for you. They're not the same feelings as before. They're not strong. They're not how I would define love. They are just there. They are deep-seated and ever-present, a melancholic undercurrent to my everything. The loss of you - of us.. it's a cataclysmic event that I will mourn for a very long time, I think. The truth is, I still wonder sometimes if we could somehow make it work. I know I told you I couldn't, but what if I got up the courage to? For all my words and my changed feelings and my logic, that is still the question I'm asking. Fight for me, for the possibility of us. That might push me over this proverbial edge. Give me the courage to be with you, despite all these reasons not to. Don't you know that I loved that most about you? I loved that you fought, heart and soul and fire, for what we had. When I saw you last, you were broken. You looked like you already knew what my answer was going to be. You were so afraid to even try, and you were right to be. It was my turn to need time to process. It took you several months. I only got to three weeks. So if you read this letter, and are perhaps still inclined to try, let me know. We can talk about it. That's a start, right? Love, F.