It’s been over two years. I feel as though I’ve gone through every possible phase with you that I could. I still think about you everyday. The thought of you comes across my mind more often as a form of habit more than genuine reflection, yet I haven’t been with anyone since we dated. I haven’t hooked up with anyone or anything like that. Not for lack of trying though. There have been a few girls, but my courage to ask them out is still low.
The end of our relationship broke me. I was mostly fine, but our closure talk did it. You were kind and answered every question even though you didn’t have to. I just wasn’t ready for the answer that you were indeed seeing someone else two months after we broke up. I shouldn’t have been surprised because I was the same thing to the guy before me, but it still hurt. I stopped eating. The stress destroyed my stomach. I couldn’t eat without feeling nauseated and I lost ten pounds and was almost put on antidepressants. We dated for a year and in who knows how long you moved on.
I realize now that I came across as selfish at times, both during our relationship and after. I’m sorry for most of that. I really am. I hope I didn’t bother you too much. I’d like to think I didn’t. I spent most of my personal time venting with my friends. They refused to speak to you out of the place you put me in, even though I put myself there. I believed I was lucky to have that support system and that you would never have it and that’s why you went from guy to guy.
I moved on. Liked other girls. Your ghost followed me across the continents and still does. On your birthday I got in trouble with the police and almost lost my mind. I try not to stalk you on social media, but sometimes I do. I see how happy you are. I’m sure you’re not all the time, but who is? I hope that those happy moments really do make up most of your time. You gave me a chunk of time I wouldn’t trade for anything, good or bad.
I remember the episode of “Doctor Who” we both loved: “Every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa the bad things don’t always spoil the good things nor do they make them unimportant.” That show became my crutch after we broke up.
I’ve learned not to ask questions. I’ve learned not to judge. Relationships really come down to the simple chance that two people are compatible not just in their preferences but are also at that right level of emotional maturity in their life.
It’s funny how you asked me about marriage even though we were still high school. I want it now, and I oh that to you. It’s funny how all of the music you wanted me to listen to but I never did is now on my most played playlist. I’ve tried letting you go. I think- hope- that I just miss the idea of our relationship more than I miss you. I saw that you were on Tinder. I swiped right out of curiosity, but there wasn’t a match because you aren’t really on there, or you didn’t want to see me.
You were a big part of my life. I hope that I was too. I think I was. I remember the first time we kissed. You had medical problems and thought you might have developed MS. I comforted you and told you the truth from what I new based on watching “House” and my Uncle’s experiences. I remember when you admitted to me that I was the first boyfriend you ever told that your dad died when you were young. I remember helping you through the times your mom was drunk and mean. I remember the times when I couldn’t. I remember when we fought. I remember the 4th of July and Worlds of Fun. I remember the 4th of August and my 18th birthday.
Sometimes I imagine you showing up at my door in California. I don’t know why you’re there, but you are. This letter is a long, rambling mess. I’ll cut to the chase: I don’t know that I still love you, because I know that I don’t know you anymore. Either way, I hope you are happy. I hope you continue to be happy. I wish you well. I’ll think about you every now and then, maybe wonder if you do the same, but don’t expect it. Know that I cherish the time we spent together. I really do.