"Would you lie with me and just forget the world?" - Snow Patrol
When we met during late summer of 2013, you couldn’t have been more unexpected. You saw my concert t-shirt and called me “Backstreet Girl,” which led to three year friendship revolving around our favorite bands. Music is what tied us together. We spent an hour outside Miami Ice long after it had closed just talking about the songs that stirred our spirits before we finally exchanged numbers. I had never met someone I immediately connected with so well. You were incredible—a perfect gentleman and my hands never touched a door to open by myself, you supported me in all I did and you were my number one fan. I felt adored and beautiful, and life was an adventure with you.
However, there came a point when I became afraid of the adventure. Somewhere along the line, I let people get into my head and things crumbled quickly. When things were getting rough, I started doubting feelings I had for you, and started second-guessing you and I. I was scared—terrified really, of something real and serious, challenging, but rewarding. I didn’t know how to forget my fears, so I pushed you away. I broke your heart, even though you were never one to show it so openly. Through it all, you were still kind and so patient, always adapting to be what I needed—a friend, a confidant, a punching bag for me and my emotions. Most of all, even when I fought so fearfully hard against it and denied it to the both of us, you were my escape from everything the world threw at me. You know how music can speak what your heart feels but can’t say? Well, there’s a song that we used to listen to, and the lyrics are “When I’m losing my control, when the city spins around, you’re the only one who knows, you slow it down.” As cliche and cheesy as it sounds, that’s what you always were for me. When the world was flying out from underneath my feet, you reached out and steadied me.
It never occurred to me just how much you meant to me, mostly because I was lying to myself. I knew in the back of my mind that you were so much more than a friend, but I hid it from myself because I was so afraid of getting hurt, but mostly I was terrified of hurting you again. Then one day, someone really insightful looked at me and told me what I couldn’t tell myself—that you were so much more than I was admitting to myself. Only it was too late. I was moving off to college and my family to Florida, and you were staying. You were finally beginning to let me go just when I was realizing how badly I wanted to hold on. There was no point in telling you and pulling you back down, it wouldn’t have been fair to you.
So now here I am almost three years later, and you’re still in the forefront of my mind. I think of you often as “the one who got away” kind of thing, except I am not sad. I’ve moved passed that, and I look back with nothing but smiles and great memories with you. I’m not really sure where life is going to take either of us, but I know that I will always consider you a friend. Maybe things were never supposed to work out with us, but that you came into my life to teach me not to be afraid of love. Who could’ve known that in all those Sonic runs and late night drives in the big yellow tank, you would break down my walls of fear and insecurity? Driving around aimlessly listening to music and talking to you all those nights, you taught me that fear is just a limit I put on my own happiness. (You also showed me that Blink182 will always hit me in the feels, and that Songs About Jane will always be Maroon Five’s best album)
These words are all the things I never said, but I am finally strong enough to say now. Thank you for every single time you picked me up when I fell apart in front of you, and for curing all my heartaches with ice-cream and The Fray even when it caused your own heartache. You’re one of the strongest, most self-less people I know, and I can never thank you enough for the countless times you put my heart above yours. I hope you find someone who makes you the happiest you’ve ever been, and I hope that person loves The 1975 and Tennis as much as you do.
