A Love Letter I’m Not Entirely Ready to
This love letter is a little different from the romantic promises spilling out from the letter I gave you, back when I stood in front of you for the first time in ten months in that Arizona summer heat. Sweat was dripping from your face, but you stood outside and talked to me, love. You looked into my eyes and I looked into yours.
There was a small little hope in my brain that I’d see you and I’d feel differently. That the lines that make up your face would stop being so lovely, so handsome. Maybe something in your face a bit more cruel, changed from the friendly half smile you that’s held in my mind. That you would have changed in a way to ease my worries, to see that there was nothing for me here. But as the story played out, I’m melting in front of you, and it’s not from the Phoenix heat.
There was a lot that changed that day. And a lot that didn’t.
I know that this situation does not look good for me. I know people don’t see this ending well. I know what every other story that’s similar to this one, and I know it ends in heartbreak.
It may be that I’m stubborn, it may be that I’m a bad loser. But I’m not ready to give up the hope of the future we had for us. Even as I type these words, like feel false, like an apology for being so näive.
I’m going to build myself up again. I am going to stop looking at this situation as not having you. As making a mistake that I’m paying for now. No, I am going to spend time being the person I’d love to be. I want to stop wondering about where to go from here, or who to put in your place. That feels wrong, and maybe I’ve been trying to fill the pain and heart with the idea that someone else will make me feel what I felt with you. And that, is something that cannot be duplicated. Going on dates, that I find myself trying to convince myself all the reasons that they are nice, that I should give them a chance. They are not you, and no one is ever going to be. I want to wait for you, love. I want to have the life we always dreamed about together. And I’m sorry for breaking your heart, for years. I never wanted that for you. I never wanted to cause you pain.
This situation seems hopeless, and much like a dead end. I’ve been experiencing heartbreak on a scale that before I could not even imagine. But I have no regrets in getting here, because it allowed me to feel this absolutely resolute certainity that I love you. That I want to see your face every morning for the rest of my life. The idea of holding your hand makes me pulse race, and it reminds me of the feeling of coming home. How can I give up on you, when that was the kind of love you always had for me? How can I walk away, when I hear how fast your heart beats when you hug me? How will I stop entertaining the thought of you, when it is so clear that there is still something here, and it’s not something frivolous, or meaningless. I know the eyes that loved me, and I saw them staring back at me that day.
I think that from sheer will, I will do my damnest to fix this darling. I will try harder to fix this. I will wait, in which is a skill I am devstatingly bad at. I have never been patient, something that most people are quick to point out.
If I love hard enough, true enough, how could this not have a chance?