I lost you

I don’t think I really understood what love was back then. I’d seen it in movies and read about it in books, but I’d never seen it in flesh and blood, right in front of me.

That changed when I found you. I remember thinking, “everything will be okay now.” It was the moment you finally said those three magical words. Remember? I know you do. That evening when we returned from your parents’ house, and for the first time, I said, “I love you” back.

But now, I’m faced with a dissonance — were those words ever true?

What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t go on those vacations with your friends. I’m sorry I resisted visiting your family and didn’t listen to the stories you shared about your loved ones. I’m sorry for not making an effort to get to know them. I’m sorry for being silent and stubborn when you wanted us to spend time with them. I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to distance yourself from those you cared about. I’m sorry you were the victim of my trust issues I got before you.

I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you talked about your hopes for navigating your career even further. I’m sorry I wasn’t excited about your own little wins. I’m sorry I didn’t support you with your motorcycle driver’s license. I’m sorry I didn’t write to you after the breakup, then I discovered you ended up in an accident.

I’m sorry I lacked any motivation to care for our home. To care for us. I’m sorry I took you for granted. I’m sorry for going overboard in all our arguments. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you enough you were a great cook. I’m sorry I stopped smiling at you back. I’m sorry you felt so alone around me. I’m sorry I wasn’t really a shoulder you could cry on. I’m sorry for all the screams, all the time spent trying to discuss every little piece of our last conversation that drove me nuts. I’m sorry for standing next to your desk for two hours, trying to make you want to talk to me and continue the fight. I’m sorry for taking all your words as an attack on me.

And I’m sorry for never making you feel like you were enough. I’m sorry I tried to stay busy so I don’t have time for you. I’m sorry I never was able to form a emotional connection that you craved when we landed under the sheets. I’m sorry my mind drifted around, when I should’ve focused purely on you. And I’m sorry that the first thing I did after our breakup, was a double hookup.

I’m sorry I didn’t want to talk to you about what sits inside my head. I’m sorry that it took me three years to finally understand, that I’m actually sorry I even responded to that very first text message you’ve ever sent me. I’m sorry I agreed on that walk back then. Remember? When we were only neighbours, sitting with my dog on the hill at the sunset near our apartments.

“It’s really hard to get to know you, you know? You don’t make that easy.” you said.

“Yeah. We barely met eachother, Matt. We’re just neighbours.”

I tried from the beginning. I wanted you to know. We were just neighbours. Nothing more, nothing less. Deep down, I knew it should’ve stayed this way, and I wanted you to be aware of that too.

But you digged deeper. And deeper. And then, I just fell. But I’m not actually sure now, where I fell into.

Because I’m absolutely sure it wasn’t love.

But you have to know, you were important to me. And that is the thing. That’s the reason I struggle myself to understand any of this.

Cause I know, I know how easy it was for you to nail all those job interviews. I know how much I was impressed by your technical mind. I know how easy it was for you to absorb all that knowledge about that cloud architecture stuff. I know how perfectly you cared for your family. I know how much you respected and loved your mother. I know how much you hoped for getting closer with your brother. I know how protective you where of your friends, even those who did you wrong.

I know how honest you were with me, and I know you would always say exactly what you think. I know I could always trust you. I know you never talked shit behind my back or discussed our problems with the boys. I know those little things you did, to make my day a little bit lighter. I know how many times I could’ve asked for your help, and you always were there for me. I know how you looked at me.

I know how you loved me. Despite the hate that grew in my heart. The hate that felt a little bit stronger every morning that I woke up next to you.

I know you. I know who you are.

You’re a diamond in the ruff. You’re a king, you’re a dream, you’re the guy I hear about in all those sad Taylor Swift songs. But what I don’t know, what I don’t understand, is why couldn’t I want you the way you wanted me.

I just wanted to say, I’m sorry. For being crazy, and selfish, and cruel, and stubborn. But most of all, I’m sorry for not loving you the way you should be loved.

Or rather, for not loving you at all.