Truths.

No matter how many people I tell, I still can’t make the spreading of truth overwhelm my guilt, resentment of self and determination I have. You were always the one. I loved you but I was scared. In the beginning, when we became friends again after history, I talked to my friends about how crazy it was, and they said that you wanted me and I should just for it. You were unavailable, but you confided in me and we managed to build another friendship. In the back, though, the question looming was always (as I first thought just in my mind, but found out later that it was in yours too) there. I dreamt and wished and thought so much about you even being in the position where it would not be treading on another’s territory for me to approach and question the nature of our relationship. When I went away to see (what we both knew would eventually be) the university of my choice, you told me you were in that dreamable position again. I hated myself for not revealing true feelings before, and I hated you for making my choice easier and harder. It was easier because I knew that if I was to leave, the more distance I could put between us, the bigger trust I could put in it not being so hard to be away from you. The choice was harder because I always knew leaving you would be. That first night we kissed, I felt like I was going to be sick. Ever since you became single, at that point, you tried to refuse the love between us, but that kiss. That sent me to heaven. At that moment, I knew true love. I know now what it is to lose somebody that you love. I never thought I would understand love, until I lost you. The ways in which I acted in the few weeks (and probably awhile before) was definitely not appropriate. I knew that our relationship wasn’t based on physical intimacy, but knowing that we were  there for each other. I know that I didn’t understand why you tolerated your dad’s drinking, or why your friends kept telling me that when you talk about me, you are the happiest they’ve ever seen. I massively underestimated how much I would miss you. I thought that I would leave, that I would be able to forget about you, that I would be able to manage, that I would find other girls that would replace you, that my feelings would slowly disappear, that by joking with my friends would make it OK. But it’s not OK. I’m not OK. I want you. I love you so much. You are my first and last thoughts every single day. I have not been able to sleep more than 3 hours for two weeks now. When I lie in bed, and listen to that slow, drifting bass, and put on those songs that remind me of you (which I know that I do on purpose, but all of those songs are coincedentally also my favourite songs), I cannot stop thinking. I just picture your face. I see your smile, and knowing that whatever I do, I can make that shine upon your face, I feel like I have violated myself. I feel that I have lost a part of myself. I am so much more when I am with you. That is now twice that we have been together – the first ended by your hand. Later to learn that your self-harm was less to do with it than the jealousy of your peers. This most recent by my indeciseveness. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. I had never been in this position before. I was counting down the days to moving to the other end of the country, and at the same time, I grew closer to you than I ever had been. Every time we saw each other, it was a reminder of how painful it was going to be to leave you. I still now cannot bear to even bring you into my thoughts in front of others, because my eyes always well up and I feel the sting of guilt rush through me. I couldn’t handle it any other way. You probably won’t forgive me, you will probably tell me that I had my chance and I blew it. You will then tell me that I need to get over you and find someone else that matters. Your memory will haunt me. I need you. I want you. I love you so much. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.