Dear ______,
I write to you today because I'm never going to be able to tell you this in person. Don't ask me why. It is very obvious why!
When I first met you, I didn't really care. You were just another new face among the tens of others I had recently met. The circumstances we met in didn't do much to get things off to a particularly rosy start either.
When I began to spend more time with and around you - purely because I had no choice - I actually found myself wishing either you or me out of the place. I concluded that I didn't like you much.
So I have no idea why, the first time you didn't show up like always, I was unable to enjoy the sort of day I'd been wishing for. I have no idea why it would put me in a bad mood to find you in one, and I certainly do not know why I began to go about with a silly grin on my face on the days that we talked about this, that and the other.
I have no clue when you began to matter so much. I still don't know why. You're wrong for me. All wrong. You don't fit my ideal combination of Roark and Darcy and Wodehouse. I don't know why you still mean more than that combination ever did, and I admire and dislike you in equal measure for turning that paradigm on its head for me. Who gave you the permission?
I reasoned with myself that it was yet another teenage crush coming two years late, and I knew it would bide its time and cease to exist afterwards.
I was right. It did behave like a crush. Long after I'd bid you goodbye, I found myself so engrossed in the present and the future and everything in between that you became just another hazy memory. You were different from the other hazy memories, though. Those others are never accompanied by a smile or a pang, or both, sometimes.
Something happened recently that brought you back into sharp focus for me. You're just another name on my phonebook and Facebook account now, and I am, thankfully, far enough past the 'lovestruck' stage to be able to talk to you like I do to anyone else. I'm also far enough past that stage to be able to smile and shake my head at everything. Quite the wise woman! :)
There's less than a one-in-a-million chance that you will ever read this...and there's absolutely no chance whatsoever of you getting to know that it is addressed to you. But if you do read this, do glance at the post just below this one, and you'll know why I chose to write to you today :) This is one of my moments of truth...and what is a moment of truth without acknowledgement?
Thank you for the memories, and for teaching me to look beyond Darcy and Roark. I'm still hung up on Wodehouse, though. Did I ever tell you you have a great sense of humour? :)
Love,
Crossworder
I write to you today because I'm never going to be able to tell you this in person. Don't ask me why. It is very obvious why!
When I first met you, I didn't really care. You were just another new face among the tens of others I had recently met. The circumstances we met in didn't do much to get things off to a particularly rosy start either.
When I began to spend more time with and around you - purely because I had no choice - I actually found myself wishing either you or me out of the place. I concluded that I didn't like you much.
So I have no idea why, the first time you didn't show up like always, I was unable to enjoy the sort of day I'd been wishing for. I have no idea why it would put me in a bad mood to find you in one, and I certainly do not know why I began to go about with a silly grin on my face on the days that we talked about this, that and the other.
I have no clue when you began to matter so much. I still don't know why. You're wrong for me. All wrong. You don't fit my ideal combination of Roark and Darcy and Wodehouse. I don't know why you still mean more than that combination ever did, and I admire and dislike you in equal measure for turning that paradigm on its head for me. Who gave you the permission?
I reasoned with myself that it was yet another teenage crush coming two years late, and I knew it would bide its time and cease to exist afterwards.
I was right. It did behave like a crush. Long after I'd bid you goodbye, I found myself so engrossed in the present and the future and everything in between that you became just another hazy memory. You were different from the other hazy memories, though. Those others are never accompanied by a smile or a pang, or both, sometimes.
Something happened recently that brought you back into sharp focus for me. You're just another name on my phonebook and Facebook account now, and I am, thankfully, far enough past the 'lovestruck' stage to be able to talk to you like I do to anyone else. I'm also far enough past that stage to be able to smile and shake my head at everything. Quite the wise woman! :)
There's less than a one-in-a-million chance that you will ever read this...and there's absolutely no chance whatsoever of you getting to know that it is addressed to you. But if you do read this, do glance at the post just below this one, and you'll know why I chose to write to you today :) This is one of my moments of truth...and what is a moment of truth without acknowledgement?
Thank you for the memories, and for teaching me to look beyond Darcy and Roark. I'm still hung up on Wodehouse, though. Did I ever tell you you have a great sense of humour? :)
Love,
Crossworder
2 comments:
dont you sometimes wonder how it might have been, had things worked out differently, if that moment of good-bye had never come. if what you had were more than just good memories.
Not really...I don't wonder because I consciously chose to say goodbye. There was an alternative alright, but it wouldn't have worked out any which way...at least not as well as the goodbye did. :)
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