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i am sitting in my room, one thousand eight hundred and forty-five miles from you. last night the rain was coming down so hard it reminded me of that day last april when you told me you loved me, it was raining then too. i remember that day perfectly, your nervousness and my uncertainty. the words fell so smoothly from your dry lips, i am in love with you, dawn. i remember my hesitation as i looked away, unable to utter a word. this scene plays like a movie in my head each time it rains. it plays itself back until i am left with nothing but cloudy skies and thoughts of you.

that day i wanted to love you more than i’ve ever wanted anything in my life. i wanted it so bad that i told you i loved you back two days later in a half-hearted text message i sent in hope that it would make you stay. i still wonder if you ever noticed my inability to say those three words to you in person, or the look in my eyes when you would say them to me.

the day i left you, one month after you told me you loved me, i told you the truth. i told you that i didn’t love you, and that i couldn’t no matter how hard i tried and that i was still trying to figure out how that was possible. i would see you in class the days that followed and i would be constantly reminded of the boy who i broke, and each time for a moment it felt like i couldn’t breathe.

it has now been three hundred and forty-two days since i’ve seen you last, and you have loved two other girls since i left. still, every time your name pops into my head i have to remember to catch my breath. you still find your way into my dreams and into my journal entries often enough that i’ve begun to notice. i am still hung up on the thought of you and what could have been. i still think of calling you every day, but i’m afraid of what you will say when you find out that it’s me on the line.

three hundred and forty-two days, one thousand eight hundred and forty-five miles, and i think i finally love you back.