To this day I don’t know what you think of me at all. We met under life-altering circumstances, for me at least. We didn’t start this dance until about a few months later. It lasts around a year, maybe less, I’ve lost count. They say those who have been traumatized have poor memories.
When I look back at the time I spent with you and all that we were, I’m left with more questions than answers and more pain than before. I was a kid, who really liked you. So much of my heart was poured into you, so many sleepless nights wondering if you liked me back. My hope was severely juvenile and my love was more on the side of lust, but that doesn’t matter now.
We never had a talk, a crescendo, something that made me feel like it was over, said, and done. One day we were the next day… I admit this is my fault. But I’m really only going to take responsibility for that. You really put me through hell. It’s been almost three years. You’ve popped in occasionally, come up in conversation, never lasting too long. It seems to be a theme of yours.
I truly hope you’re doing well. Whatever we were, are, at any given time, you’re still a human who deserves happiness and love. We just couldn’t give one another that. I don’t know whether you liked me or if you just didn’t want to be alone. I don’t know if a single thing you told me is true. And for a while, that really messed me up, but I forgive you. I have a life to live, as do you.
I could say so much more, ask the hard-hitting questions, but I don’t think that would do any good. It would kick the dust-up once more, and it has just now settled. I have found peace in writing this. I aired my grievances and I don’t have to go searching for a stamp! Score!
We’ll always have the summer of 2017.