I am sure by now you know that I am generally afraid of pain and of being alone in dark rooms forever in a loop without you there. You assume the things I miss about you are superficial. You know that it is best to not bring up sore subjects certain weeks out of the year. You know that if you said the word, I’d be in your arms without questioning why you called me there. You’ve asked why I like you, incredulously I will add. I think you’re stupid for asking whywhywhy all the goddamn time.
Like: thoughtful, witty, bad at telling lies, independently inclined, good with words, ambitious, nice smile and good eyes, always the number one original fun time supporter, generous, gentile with animals, cooks willingly, knows how to calm down, compassionate, willing, affectionate (Honorable Mention No Longer Relevant: stable)
Dislike: none worth mentioning that we haven’t already argued about, seeing as we are two sides of the same coin. we mirror each other, so your dislikes are in some way also mine.
I miss being thought of by you in the ways you think of people. Here is a list so I can get it out of my system:
- pulling sunflowers out of your gym bag
- bringing green (washed) grapes
- making me eat dinner when I felt like throwing up
- reminding me to not forget how much you loved me throughout the night
- seeing your name pop up on my phone at night when you couldn’t sleep
- birthdays
- pulling off the freeway when I feel yucky from a long car ride
- photos in hotel rooms and parking lots so we would remember what the days looked like in March
- letting me hold you while we cried
What I wish the most is what I’ve known all along, but that you systematically deny since your primal desire to be seen by someone different ended. I wish you could watch me from someone else’s eyes instead of your sore ones. I bet you didn’t know that everyone who knows me and sees me out and about with you always comments on how joyful I seem around you. It’s a rarity lately. I say that begrudgingly, as I have tried very hard to be amicable but am incapable of doing so with the knowledge that there are now no people in my life who truly want to stay loving me. I am of the belief that someday in your quest to not forget to be sad, you will accept my feelings for what they are.
I bet you also didn’t know when we sleep together you always pull me closer as you fall deeper and I begin to wake up.
Do you think it is silly of you to feel anger when you imagine me trying to be in love with someone else? I imagine you looking through a window at me (now like, 40) with some guy I found who gave me a kid that I like a lot more than I do him. I imagine I look sad. I imagine I sleep with your cologne-stained sweatshirt on whenever I feel especially lonely, while on the couch obviously. I know that even in ten years I will have still been Pavlov-ed into a calm remission by things that smell like you. I used to fall asleep with my face in the crook of your neck. But either way, if you feel angry or sad, instead of accepting it why don’t you give in to what you wanted?
I want to tell you that I love you and I see you for what you are always and that I don’t hate you at all.
On the other hand, you’ve grown to hate parts of me, and I understand now that’s your final act of love. This will be the last year you desperately loved me in and so, in a week or so, some of myself that is embedded in you will shrivel up die.
It would be cool if for Christmas you wrote me a little note. Something with some truth to it that I can replace memories with and read when I am old and you are gone: two truths and a lie.
TRUTH: I will not forget about you ever in my whole entire life.
Truth: I have not stopped falling in love with you although I resent how you cry.
Lie: I will be here for as long as you’ll have me.
