To A Boy

I am not sure why my mind drifts to thoughts of you at night. Maybe it is because all of the responsibilities of the day are gone and my mind is preparing to reset for the next day and there is just too much empty space.

I would like you to know that I do not regret anything that went on between us. I am not angry with you. I have even convinced myself that I am no longer angry with myself. I hurt you. I know. I am sorry. But that is the way life played out for us and we must move on. Your random texts are heart wrenching and your sporadic calls are heart aching. If I do not get to speak to you everyday, then I do not want to speak to you once every few months. Whatever it was that we had ended with an abrupt “bye”. I do not regret anything about what we shared. Maybe you do.

I will not lie and say that I do not miss you because sometimes, I do. When I am lonely I miss your words of encouragement and your corny jokes.

I need you to know that I heard about everything you told everyone about us. If it makes you sleep better at night to say those things, so be it. But I need you to know that I know the truth. I broke up with you. I set you free into the void of the world because I am fire and you are methane and when we mix, we create disaster. Do you understand? I did it for you. It is all for you. Everything was always for you.

I think you should know that I love you, still. After all of the hurt and the tears, my love still remains. I love you. My lips have not been able to form those words since you. This, all of this, is so dumb. My mind, only as I write this, is clear. For once, I know what I am saying and what I mean, but for what purpose? There are moments when memories of you haunt me. Sometimes, when I would look into your eyes, I could see our future together. Dumb, right?

Even if you read this, I know you do not care. You always cared very little. It was what we had in common, a strange affinity for apathy. I know I said we both never cared about anything, but there was a time when I chose to care about you. If you were to even scrape an elbow I would come running with a first aid kit. I always thought that maybe I could fix you.

Sometimes I like to think about the first time you confessed your love for me. It was weird, even for us. It was not poetic. It was simple. It was abrupt. Maybe there are times when simplicity can too be beautiful. God. I am writing this. I am really writing this and trying to read it as I go and make as little mistakes as I can. Am I trying to impress you with the new feelings I have just figured out? Maybe I could teach you how to feel, just as I have learned. You will never read this. This, all of this is pointless.

I love you, okay?