Skip to content

I didn’t want to write another story about you, but I had to trash you too

*Originally posted on Medium.

I thought about you today, but only for a second. This wasn’t the first time and I don’t think it will be the last. I’m still honestly not sure how I feel about that. The only sure feeling is death. The lonely loss of a best friend, where you know that companionship can never exist in the same essence. You seemed so non-existent to me that seeing your face caused panic, as if I had seen a ghost; the only instinct was to run and that made me feel so fucking weak. God, I mean, you were there in front of me and for so long you weren’t. My mind escaped the linger of your words for months, but time is inevitable and the universe doesn’t enjoy keeping secrets.

And maybe I am happy to hear from others that you seem to be doing terribly. The egotistical parts of me want to believe that your situations would be better if I was there to help you. That’s the thing, though, I still want to help you and be there for you. My belief in you and your capabilities are still there, you showed me the stars in your eyes that were consumed by a passion that I thought only I could possess. That’s why I trusted you — we are one of the same, equals. But for so long our relationship felt like I was a fan, oblivious to your obvious vices, caring only about the lyrics and rhythms that sparked our connection and understanding of each other.

I supported you, I never judged you. And I can still remember all the midnight calls and early texts, but you never made me feel second best. Your lips, they steadily whispered to me that I was the only one that got it and I wonder now if I ever heard the words or if my soul could feel them. There were so many things you never had to tell me, my soul knew the struggles you were facing and gave me insight to the truth. The universe doesn’t like keeping secrets.

Maybe I really was never second best, at least not to her. Do you remember when we were in my room, our minds on a higher level? You were slouching in my desk chair, giving me those eyes you give when you just want to crawl beside the person in front of you and let them consume you. You didn’t though, you left. But with that, you let me know if I wanted you, I could have you. And for so long, I didn’t.

Sometimes I wonder if I ever really did want you. I know now I could have never been with you, not on an account of the background noise between us, but rather my personal taste. Maybe you never really wanted me, either. The hardest maybe on my mind is maybe you don’t care, maybe you don’t think about me anymore.

But we were different, so I refuse to believe that. We would talk endlessly, switching from old stories to our beliefs on religion to describing our passion. This whole thing would be easier to write if I just knew that you thought about me, too. Do you know how guilty I feel missing our conversations? I am the happiest I have ever been in my life, with the love of my life, but I still miss our friendship. He has heard me talk about you and he’s never jealous, because he knows the love I felt for you was nothing romantic. It was just different with us and I know you know that.

The only thing that ever held you back from me was you and that, I can tell, makes you angry. I’m angry you took your best songs off the Internet, now your feed is trash because you’re insecure about the old you. You can’t put continents between our minds, I told you I’d always listen and I meant that.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.