You said, somewhere I shouldn’t be reading, that I hurt you, that I misled you, that you shouldn’t have listened to me, but I don’t even know what I said.
I met you on the 28th, and you said you still wanted to be with me but I said no. Surely that can’t be what you’re talking about, because you’re better than that.
Ah. I didn’t message you back. I should have known.
I’m not going to pretend this isn’t my fault, but I’m not going to keep pretending that I’m doing it intentionally. I can’t be your everything, and I don’t even know what you want from me. You want us to be best friends again, but the fact is, I don’t think we were ever best friends in that I never told you everything about me. I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone and we were very very close. But how is it on me to bring that back? To my knowledge we only ever talked about our days and minor inconveniences and our conversations were constant and intense because we were in love. When the romantic aspect is separated from it, we were never talking about the depths of our souls.
I message you now out of obligation, mostly. Not that I don’t want to, but because I don’t know what to say. I miss you, and I care about you, but it’s like missing something out of the past. I can’t bring it back by talking to you more. Too much has changed. I’ve changed, at least, and I thought you had too, but I keep reading this blog and it feels like you haven’t, like you still love me, and all I can think is why? I was never breathtakingly beautiful, I was never an amazing person. I don’t know what I did to make you care this much about me, so much that you hate me now for not loving you still, and it never really occurred to me that I could hurt someone this much by just not being there. I’m sorry.
And now it’s like I’m reaching into this void, trying to take your hand, but you keep stepping back, baby steps, like a swim instructor trying to make a toddler swim farther out into the blue. You’re trying to see how much I care. I know that. You’re leaving me on read on purpose, not starting conversations, and I try, but what do you want to talk about? I think it’s just that I’m here for you, not for me. I’m not here because being friends with you gives me anything. I’m here because I feel guilty for hurting you and leaving you and I feel responsible for making sure you’re still okay. I’m doing a bad job of that, apparently, because I don’t even think that’s what you want. That’s certainly not something that I would ever want- a sort of pity friend. And you say to just tell you that I don’t want to be friends anymore, but that isn’t true, and even if it were, I could never let myself hurt you that intentionally. Maybe that’s hypocritical, because I’ve hurt you more, apparently, by accident.
I just need you to fall out of love with me like I did with you. Softly, in my sleep one day, waking up and not realizing anything had changed. Just seeing your face and wondering at how I no longer wanted to kiss you. It hurt, but an aching soreness, like a fading bruise, not like this twisting sharpness you’re feeling. I want that for you. To guide you down from this gently, to place you on a new plane of moving on. But maybe the only way you’ll let this go is by crashing, and I don’t think I can do that to you yet. Even after all these years, not yet.