Mar 2018
I remember the very first day.
It was Halloween night. I was 13 years old. You were 16. The moment you walked in, you captured my attention. For the rest of the night, I couldn't help but try and catch your glance out of the corner of my eye, trying not to stare, trying not to blush. I didn't even know your name yet.
I was 13, and I think that night was the first step I took towards loving you.
I remember the first time I came over to your house. I was 14. You were 17. It was midnight on a school night. You met me at the beach and we walked in the middle of the causeway back to your house. A huge wave came crashing against the wall and you ran out of the way, while I got soaked. You laughed and hugged me trying to keep me warm. When we got to your room, we talked for hours. We smoked. You told me about Mac Dre and the Bay and your life in California and you showed me a photo of your youngest siblings and you sung for me. I didn't leave until 5 AM.
Now, I'm 20. And the last time I spoke to you was February 24th, over ******* snapchat.
Today would have marked the first month into your 23rd year, but it doesn't. Instead, it marks the month you never made. It's been a week since you died, and I still don't know what to do.
I cant sleep. I cant eat unless someone is with me. I cant even think without my head shouting at me running in ******* circles faster than ******* light. This is the hardest thing I've ever done. I think it's harder because I told myself for years I didn't love you, that whatever I felt was some infatuation, for years. But every single time you called me, I answered. Every single time you said "I wanna see you" I said when. For 6 years you were the one constant I had. I could always be sure that I had so many feelings for you. Always. Period.
And I want to make something clear. I would have done anything for you, if you let me. But instead you told me I was nothing to you, that you didn't care. Thats all you ever told me. And all I ever wanted was for you to just say you cared about me. Tell me I meant something to you that I wasn't someone to keep your bed warm.
Then, last month happens. I get a text. Didn't know the number. But, as soon as I got it, I knew it was you. This conversation was the only time I ever asked you "Did you ever care about me, at all?" and the only time you ever said "Of course I care about you."
The next day the line was disconnected. I don't know if it was actually you, part of me says it was and parts of me says its not.
But the hardest thing,
Is knowing the only time you ever said you cared about me,
Was over a text.
That wasn't even from you.
I hope to God it was from you.
I think more than anything, that will be the hardest part to come to terms with.
That you have always been a piece of my heart. That I have always cared about you. Unceasingly, without pause, without hesitation, consistently, for 6 years.
And I will never know if you ever cared at all.
You meant so much to me, I would have given anything to have a chance with you.
I just wish I told you when you were alive.
It was Halloween night. I was 13 years old. You were 16. The moment you walked in, you captured my attention. For the rest of the night, I couldn't help but try and catch your glance out of the corner of my eye, trying not to stare, trying not to blush. I didn't even know your name yet.
I was 13, and I think that night was the first step I took towards loving you.
I remember the first time I came over to your house. I was 14. You were 17. It was midnight on a school night. You met me at the beach and we walked in the middle of the causeway back to your house. A huge wave came crashing against the wall and you ran out of the way, while I got soaked. You laughed and hugged me trying to keep me warm. When we got to your room, we talked for hours. We smoked. You told me about Mac Dre and the Bay and your life in California and you showed me a photo of your youngest siblings and you sung for me. I didn't leave until 5 AM.
Now, I'm 20. And the last time I spoke to you was February 24th, over ******* snapchat.
Today would have marked the first month into your 23rd year, but it doesn't. Instead, it marks the month you never made. It's been a week since you died, and I still don't know what to do.
I cant sleep. I cant eat unless someone is with me. I cant even think without my head shouting at me running in ******* circles faster than ******* light. This is the hardest thing I've ever done. I think it's harder because I told myself for years I didn't love you, that whatever I felt was some infatuation, for years. But every single time you called me, I answered. Every single time you said "I wanna see you" I said when. For 6 years you were the one constant I had. I could always be sure that I had so many feelings for you. Always. Period.
And I want to make something clear. I would have done anything for you, if you let me. But instead you told me I was nothing to you, that you didn't care. Thats all you ever told me. And all I ever wanted was for you to just say you cared about me. Tell me I meant something to you that I wasn't someone to keep your bed warm.
Then, last month happens. I get a text. Didn't know the number. But, as soon as I got it, I knew it was you. This conversation was the only time I ever asked you "Did you ever care about me, at all?" and the only time you ever said "Of course I care about you."
The next day the line was disconnected. I don't know if it was actually you, part of me says it was and parts of me says its not.
But the hardest thing,
Is knowing the only time you ever said you cared about me,
Was over a text.
That wasn't even from you.
I hope to God it was from you.
I think more than anything, that will be the hardest part to come to terms with.
That you have always been a piece of my heart. That I have always cared about you. Unceasingly, without pause, without hesitation, consistently, for 6 years.
And I will never know if you ever cared at all.
You meant so much to me, I would have given anything to have a chance with you.
I just wish I told you when you were alive.
