It’s been a long time and there’s still so much to say that we never said, so I’ll keep it simple. You’ve never been one to talk much about your feelings and I’m almost certain you’ll never read this because you won’t go looking for answers to the mystery of us.
But after almost three years I still have all these things to say and no one to say them to because you ghosted – it’s an awful feeling.
First of all, I no longer blame you for ghosting. In the end, we had to lose contact and I was too weak to do it. I do regret that you didn’t just tell me. The way you handled everything, never telling me what you actually thought or felt or what was going on in your life or even how I didn’t fit into it, is one thing I still hold against you. It was insulting; I don’t see myself as someone who wouldn’t let go if that’s what you wanted.
The remaining problem with us is to this day I don’t know how much I know about you because you never let me in. And we talked a lot – hours upon hours for over a year. That’s not normal.
I still remember when we met and it was like there was no one else in the room. I know you felt the same way.
The strange thing is I know you felt the same way about me a lot of the time: that intensity of longing and excitement and tenderness.
But you never let it develop into anything real. You wanted the thrill of the sensations without the responsibility of emotions that comes with knowing someone.
It’ll be easy for you to pretend to yourself that not much happened, that we were a fling. Since we grew into a habit of telling the other who they were, I’ll tell you you’re lying to yourself. Your actions prove that.
I’m sorry I hung on for too long. It should have ended in April three years ago but you had me like a drug and it took a long time to give you up. I hope you know I always gave it my best effort.
In the end, you came back from ghosting and you sent me that message. Then I think your other returns could have been an attempt to reconnect. Why didn’t I answer? Why didn’t I respond? Well, honey, you burnt the bridge. Don’t holler at me from the other side to make a new one. Nothing short of you making a new bridge would have brought me to acknowledge the man on the other side.
You didn’t even apologize. I know I have things to apologize for too. I would have done so. But in that last text, you were still trying to play it cool, to minimize things. I can’t speak to you until you give up playing games.
Now I know we’ll probably never speak again. I want to say you were special to me. I couldn’t not acknowledge what we could have been, even if we lived so far apart. I’m all or nothing. That’s why I pushed for more.
I also want to say it’s sad how much we talked and how little I feel you know me. You were satisfied with who you wanted me to be for the sake of fantasy, and at times I went along and pretended to seduce you. Baby, let me tell you, I am not that girl.
I’m much much happier now in love. I love my boyfriend and have the answers and direction I need.
I hope you’re happy. I sometimes wonder if you’re back with her and if you lied and you always were. Whatever the case, I hope you can love. You can be great when your guard is down.
When my anger subsides, and it has subsided a lot, I have a lingering affection for you. I still care. You gave me a lot. To have given me all that makes me think maybe you still care too but you’re just too concerned with your hard-boiled act to say so.
Saying so would be part of building the bridge.
If ever we do meet again, I hope it will be without lies but also without resentment or regret.
I wish you well, truly, L., I do. You have a way of staying hidden in a part of my mind and I think you’re a part of my past which will always mean something. After all, you were the first man I truly fell for, though the wrong one. And yes, I was in love with you.