ph: weheartit
I’m not even really sure how it happened. I’d had plenty of boyfriends before; so many that my friends always told me I was incapable of being alone. It wasn’t that I was addicted to love, it was just that I’d get in too deep to back out. Looking back, I only truly loved one of those boys, and the rest are a blur. I don’t think you’ll ever be part of that blur.
At first, it seemed to start like every other relationship I had. Our friends got involved, saying how great we’d be together. Sure, I was attracted to you, how could I not be? But you seemed arrogant, cocky, too sure of yourself. There didn’t seem to be enough room in your life for your ego and me. But I kissed you anyway.
It wasn’t the can’t eat, can’t sleep, reach for the stars, over the fence, world series kind of kiss one would expect from the boy they were soon to fall in love with. It was a good kiss. It kept me interested. So we kept going: hanging out on the field for most of those September nights, spreading out a blanket on the grass and looking at the stars, laughing as we became familiar with each other. I guess neither of us ever thought it would evolve the way it did. The sense of carelessness just added to the momentum; I fell for you so hard.
It’s ironic now, that you were the one who wanted to label us as an official couple first. I was soon going to learn how scared a serious relationship made you. You couldn’t deal with your emotions, you couldn’t let anyone in. The tough shell you built around yourself challenged me. I knew there was a sensitive boy behind those walls and I was determined to find him and, eventually, to love him.
The fights started coming in higher doses, until I decided I was done with the hurt. You couldn’t admit to yourself that you cared and I couldn’t tell you something you didn’t know yourself. I left for two months, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. When you sent me that message, saying I was right and you had made a terrible mistake and needed me back, that was the first time I ever cried over you. I’d never cried over a boy before. I’d never been hurt like I had been with you. I had never had a real pain in my stomach because I missed anyone as much as I missed you.
When we finally got back together, we held back, so much so that it didn’t seem like we were to last. Summer was coming and we were scared. What was the point in falling if I was just going to have to pick up the pieces again? But you realized you had been wrong all along. We started spending more and more time together, and as spring came, our relationship bloomed like I could have never predicted.
Summer came, but we got through it together. Traveling to see each other every weekend left such a strong sense of emptiness each time we were apart that the anticipation of seeing you again just fueled our love even further. I suddenly felt closer to you than I had ever felt. I could be weird and crazy and dramatic and ditzy and serious and pensive and you wouldn’t even blink an eye. You accepted me for whatever I chose to be, and the comfort I felt around you will never be matched. I’m going to miss snuggling and just being in your arms; trying to force you to watch Dear John and making fun of you when you cave; the tiny patch of purple zigzags on your back; your blue eyes standing out when you wear the Patagonia I gave you for Christmas; the genuine giggle you let out when I tickle your collarbone; the maturity and confidence I see when you’re talking to daddy; your jokes about being middle-aged with me and not being scared when I told you that crazy psychic said we were soul-mates; how you tell me everything’s okay, even when it so clearly isn’t.
Because you’re going away to school and I might just lose you this time.
Al.
