I hadn’t told you for many years, but you told me you knew the whole time. It may have been clear that I wasn’t as casual as I tried to be. Seriously, I met you when I was very young..had never kissed anyone. I was always right there waiting, every time you took interest in me for years, no matter how many times you disappeared. My feelings were pretty clear, but how could you have possibly known just how strongly I felt? What it was like for me on my side of your games..
Did you know what I did? Did you know every outfit I wore, how I wore my makeup, every haircut, every hair color, the music I listened to, the books I read, the words I used, the movies I watched, the way I walked, the way I laughed, every picture or post, every single thing I did..every single day for all those years, it was all done with you in mind, hoping you would see me and want me too.
I would constantly be trying to find a reason to talk to you, so much that I just looked like an idiot. I’d wait so long for you to message me and as soon as you did, I’d drop everything I was doing just to talk to you. Over those years I worked so hard to be someone perfect and amazing…for you. Every time I thought I was finally pretty enough or smart enough or fun enough or unique or mature, I’d find out I still wasn’t good enough for you to stay. I never stopped trying, for so many years. Other people thought I was amazing, and they were too, but I would walk away from them as soon as you’d walk back into my life.
You’d tell me you were coming to see me, and I couldn’t breathe. I counted down the seconds. I’d buy new clothes, new shoes, new perfume, plan everything out, perfect lights, perfect music, perfect decor. The day would come and I would be so nervous I’d puke. I’d do my makeup over and over. I’d wait and wait. Sometimes you never showed up. You didn’t know, but I’d cry for days.
When you would show up, though, it was like a dream to me. We would lay on my bed and talk for hours and hours. You would casually put your hand on my stomach, and laugh about feeling my heart pounding. We sat outside in the cold for hours staring at the stars, you would stare into my eyes for too damn long, push my hair from my face, and say some really clich’e shit about how surreal the moment was and then kiss me. And I would go back to every kiss we shared over the years since my very first kiss that one time with you that night we met.
Do you remember the first time we *ahem* hooked up? It was like six years after we first kissed. Six years I had spent trying to get you to stop coming and going. Puscifer and A Perfect Circle were playing and maybe it was the lighting I had picked, but you got really passionate. Like some kind of movie. Before we started, you asked if it’s what I really wanted. I said you had no idea, but only if it really meant something to you too. You told me I had no idea what it meant to you, then you pulled me really close to you and kissed me hard and it felt like my heart was being stabbed and my throat was closing and instead of butterflies in my stomach it was like a flock of crazy fucking birds. Afterward, you held onto me with your fingers laced with mine and we fell asleep. When I woke up the sun was coming up and you were putting on your clothes and said you had to leave. I felt empty and didn’t get back out of bed that day. You disappeared again. You came around twice in two years after that and knocked me off my feet every time I thought I was alright again. All those years I’d occasionally drive out to that shit hole town you live in and I’d visit the spot where I had my first kiss, and go on a walk on the same route we walked, I’d go to a spot in the woods by the river where we once stood, go down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere to an old swing set and sit on a swing you once pushed me on, sit by an old abandoned building where we got stuck in the mud. I would know you were somewhere close by but in my mind you were right there with me, talking to me, holding my hand. In all those years when you weren’t around, you still were with me. When I went to sleep I’d drift off thinking of you next to me. When reality would sink in I’d drink or get high alone in my room and cry as I tried to figure out why I wasn’t good enough for you to stay and why you kept coming back.
Then one year for Christmas you told me you knew I loved you and you always did. I said it was pretty obvious. I didn’t need to ask if you loved me too, I wasn’t stupid anymore. I asked anyway, I thought hearing it might set me free. You confirmed you didn’t have feelings for me. I politely told you I understood that and I wanted you to find the perfect person because you deserve to be happy even if it makes me sad. You asked if you could come see me and for the first time ever, I said no to you.
You’re not who I made you out to be. I idealized you. It was easy to do in your absence. I made you into the person I wanted most, and made myself into someone that person would want. I worked so hard for years trying to be amazing for you, but the person I invented didn’t exist in you. You’re not ideal, you’re not even really that great.
In the end, all that delusional effort turned me into someone amazing. And that perfect person I invented does exist, just not in you. He found me and he thinks I’m perfect too.
Now I laugh when I see you for who you are, you’re just so average. You’re no demigod like you say you are lol, and I wonder if you wouldn’t be so arrogant if I hadn’t always been there desperately trying to win your affection and boosting your confidence.
I just hope you know now that I can see you and I’m not impressed anymore. You’ll be something great one day. I can thank you, though, for being the motivation I used for getting to where I am. Your wise enough to know it wasn’t really you. I invented you.