I guess this is just a rough draft, a little motivation or push for an outlet, the popping of my swollen balloon, starting slowly it will gradually all pour out. I hope. I hope I’m left with an empty balloon, once filled with all the things I hold on to for you. All the things I wish I told you. The things I need to say, to get off my chest, to forgive myself.

For me, this is kind of like what I would tell myself back in middle school. “I’ll wear a bikini when I lose the weight”, “When I’m skinny I can go do ____”, etc. Similarly now, it’s “After summer camp I’ll call him”, “I’ll write the letter once I get sober”, “I’ll do it after I ___”. It’s taken me so much time. It’s been 3 years, and I still hold on to you, so dearly.

I am sober now. And I realized why I got so bad into getting high. I realized what I was doing. Here, I’ll lay it out for you.
I feel something, and it hurts. And deep down, it’s this throbbing pain, one that’s sent me flying off the road because I can’t see between sobbing, one that I’ve woken up to, one that I’ve grown familiar with. I know this feeling well, hell, I feel it right now. So I feel this, and I want it to go away. I want numb. I want to feel OK. And so I’d smoke, and smoke, and smoke. And eventually I’d be so high I couldn’t do much more than relax and drift off into “everything is okay”.

I have to pass a drug test for this camp, and so I found myself smoking for my last time. April 22. And now I’m faced with this pain, this pain that is not always completely overwhelming, more of a back of the mind, always there, sometimes throbs a little louder, sometimes dulls down, you know, similar to an aching muscle? Pull it one way and it hurts, walk too much on it and you’re gonna feel it for days. Well, getting sober, you really don’t have much of a way to numb this pain anymore, it’s just kind of there.

And I haven’t quite figured it out yet.

It’s most likely a mix of. Well actually. It’s really. Just. I can’t forgive myself for.. everything.

You had cancer. I don’t know if I will ever be able to let go of the fact that I wasn’t there for you. You were so scared. You almost died. I fucking hate myself for that.

I cheated on you. You trusted me and I cheated on you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve grown from this deep regret. I.. I haven’t been able to move on. I don’t know how to tell you that I did either. I never told you. The old me lied to you. You asked me and I lied. I hate that I did that.

These things all sound so trivial and stupid to even bring up because this was 3 years ago that we broke up, but I guess I just have to write it down.

Anyways.

I don’t know what I was thinking. Well actually I do. I was 17 when we started dating. 17 and I went to West Virginia University, and the world was my oyster. And even though I found my soul mate in you, I wanted to know if there was more. Part of me felt like I was missing out. And dammit if I didn’t try and found out. Looking back, I remember when I kissed him, and it didn’t feel right. I left feeling dirty. And when I saw you again, and you loved me just the same as you always did, I felt at home. Even though I had scuffed the shoes they still fit. and I’m sorry for scuffing the shoes. I loved you so much. I miss those nights the first summer we lived together, getting ready, and then going to Petey Fletch’s and grilling with Caleb, listening to Led Zeppelin and playing beer pong. Those are some of the fondest memories I have of you and me. I knew well before that, but there, there in his back yard I felt our hearts blend into one. I was you and you were me and I loved you with everything that I knew. You didn’t know that I had cheated on you, and I didn’t tell, but dammit R. I fucked up. and I would give anything to let you know that you gave me the world when we broke up. You let me go, you unhooked me and said run free little girl, you’ll never have me again. And as soon as you did I looked back and realized that I had nothing without you.

Still to this day when I am at a particularly beautiful place, or there is just an absolutely marvelous sunset, I think of you. And I wish you were looking at it with me.

I feel like that a lot, but especially at things that make my heart soar, because I want to share them with you.

My memory only chooses certain things here and there to remember. But I have a fond memory of you and I driving toward Wal-Mart and we had on our song, I’ve got a secret, and the sun was shining, it was a beautiful summer afternoon, and you held my hand as you drove and I just. The simplest memory, and I hold it so dearly to me. I love you still. But I’m scared that we’ve changed so much, you know?

You’ve had cancer. I don’t even know what you’re doing, yunno? I think you go to WVU still. Your parents live in Cyprus, maybe you even live in Cyprus, I don’t know. I just. And I’ve changed too, so much.

The awful things I did made me change so much. I spend most of my days alone now. I don’t smoke (anything) anymore. Thanks to you I quit smoking cigarettes. That would have really made me an ugly fool if I kept that up. I quit smoking weed. I work out daily, it’s really my only outlet. Something about the pain and the stress I place on myself in a grueling workout really releases the things I’m holding on to.

I don’t even know if I miss you is the right thing to say. Today I walked downstairs and had a weird thought of, what if I go check my phone, and there’s a missed call from him? Yunno? I would like to see you again, but it’s been so long. October of 2011 was the last time I saw you. It’s June of 2014 now. We haven’t spoken for about a year. I miss you. I don’t know if you miss me too, or anything, but I know I miss you.

I just finished this awesome book called Tell No One by Harlen Coban (sp) and it reminded me so much of you. The main character, Beck, lost his wife eight years earlier in a freak murder. And no matter what, he still thought about her, he still loved her. The book itself wasn’t much about the love but honestly it was so relieving how much hope he held out for her, and the fact that she thought of him every day too (she was alive) and couldn’t live without him. Well, that’s how I feel.

Some days I think about it more than others. Like that you had cancer, and that I could die tomorrow, and that maybe we were meant to be together but neither of us wants to be the first one.

I know you’re still sour. At least you were when we used to talk. You didn’t want to talk about us, or how we broke up. Or the problems, or anything. So part of me feels like maybe you are still holding out hope? But part of me knows that I was truly the one to blame for the whole thing, so it would most likely be easier for you to move on.

Okay, well, great start! LOL. What a rough draft.