I can't believe I'm writing this, but this is long overdue. I don't know where you are, what you're doing or who you're with. I'm not even sure you're alive... but for the sake of my own sanity, I think it's time I had this conversation with you, even if it's only in my head (and on my blog) and you will probably never read it.
You were my exact definition of beautiful; blue-green eyes depending on the lighting, a thick mane of soft brown hair that cascaded elegantly down your back (with that stupid ash-blonde streak you had as a memento from when you were trying to go blonde); a neck so long and perfect it might as well have been sculpted from porcelain; lustrous red, full-sized lips and a smile that could get a man to chew off his right hand just to see it; and soft round cheeks that made you look deceptively innocent.
I was young and stupid, and like a fly that keeps bumping into a lit lamp because of the pretty light, eventually I got burned. There were huge red flags everywhere, and I think you yourself tried to warn me, but I was blind to the signs. We were never meant to be together and you were too wild for an inexperienced teenage boy to manage. Even though I knew we were incompatible and that it wouldn't last, the time we were together was the most I've felt alive in 22 years now. I always knew on some level that we'd never make it, but it still hurt me all the same when you did what you did.
You knew how proud I am. Why would you hurt me the way you did? You gave me commitment issues; trust issues; intimacy issues; control issues... you name it. You messed me up for life. You were the only girl I ever loved, and I don't think I will ever get over what you did. I haven't been able to love again, as hard as I tried, and that's your fault. Yet for some reason, instead of accepting this and moving on, my mind keeps going around in circles, like a sadistic game of Pac-man where I keep distracting myself with pac-dots to get away from the ghost(s) of your memory.
I know you tried to reach me a lot, but I haven't been able to forgive you and I probably never will. I didn't want to give you a chance to explain whatever motives you had because I was still hopelessly in love with you and I'd have probably forgiven you... again. I still can't believe I forgave you that one time... it's a testament to how much I loved you, but you took that love and wiped the floor with it before flushing it down the toilet.
I cut you out of my life because I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I wanted to deny you closure, but you know what's ironic? I denied it to me, too. After all these years, I can still picture your face at will, as clearly as if I just saw you yesterday... and it's been five years. The fact that you still pop up in my dreams after all this time is surprising, but the fact that I wake up smiling is simply unsettling. I don't know what to do anymore... I've made an art out of being trapped in the maze that is my past, and I'm running out of pac-dots.
I'm really not sure what I want to say, except that I hate that I still remember you. I hate that somewhere, deep down, there are couple of Bondok molecules who are still in love with you and unable to let you go. I hate that in the act of never forgiving you, I've doomed myself to forever having that picture of your face engraved in my brain, beautiful and terrible and out of reach.
I don't want you back. I'll never want you back.
I hate you.
But I miss who I was with you.
and... I miss you.
You were my exact definition of beautiful; blue-green eyes depending on the lighting, a thick mane of soft brown hair that cascaded elegantly down your back (with that stupid ash-blonde streak you had as a memento from when you were trying to go blonde); a neck so long and perfect it might as well have been sculpted from porcelain; lustrous red, full-sized lips and a smile that could get a man to chew off his right hand just to see it; and soft round cheeks that made you look deceptively innocent.
I was young and stupid, and like a fly that keeps bumping into a lit lamp because of the pretty light, eventually I got burned. There were huge red flags everywhere, and I think you yourself tried to warn me, but I was blind to the signs. We were never meant to be together and you were too wild for an inexperienced teenage boy to manage. Even though I knew we were incompatible and that it wouldn't last, the time we were together was the most I've felt alive in 22 years now. I always knew on some level that we'd never make it, but it still hurt me all the same when you did what you did.
You knew how proud I am. Why would you hurt me the way you did? You gave me commitment issues; trust issues; intimacy issues; control issues... you name it. You messed me up for life. You were the only girl I ever loved, and I don't think I will ever get over what you did. I haven't been able to love again, as hard as I tried, and that's your fault. Yet for some reason, instead of accepting this and moving on, my mind keeps going around in circles, like a sadistic game of Pac-man where I keep distracting myself with pac-dots to get away from the ghost(s) of your memory.
I know you tried to reach me a lot, but I haven't been able to forgive you and I probably never will. I didn't want to give you a chance to explain whatever motives you had because I was still hopelessly in love with you and I'd have probably forgiven you... again. I still can't believe I forgave you that one time... it's a testament to how much I loved you, but you took that love and wiped the floor with it before flushing it down the toilet.
I cut you out of my life because I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I wanted to deny you closure, but you know what's ironic? I denied it to me, too. After all these years, I can still picture your face at will, as clearly as if I just saw you yesterday... and it's been five years. The fact that you still pop up in my dreams after all this time is surprising, but the fact that I wake up smiling is simply unsettling. I don't know what to do anymore... I've made an art out of being trapped in the maze that is my past, and I'm running out of pac-dots.
I'm really not sure what I want to say, except that I hate that I still remember you. I hate that somewhere, deep down, there are couple of Bondok molecules who are still in love with you and unable to let you go. I hate that in the act of never forgiving you, I've doomed myself to forever having that picture of your face engraved in my brain, beautiful and terrible and out of reach.
I don't want you back. I'll never want you back.
I hate you.
But I miss who I was with you.
and... I miss you.
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