“it’s not always necessary to be strong, but to feel strong.” you said, quoting some author I hadn’t heard of until then.
I wanted to tell you how I loved it when you talked about the books that you read, how I loved hearing the passion in your voice over something as simple as a well-written paragraph.
I wanted to ask you how you always seemed able to live in the moment, how the past never bothered you and you always had faith that the future would be beautiful, and that somehow everything works itself out in the end.
I wanted to say “I love you.” I didn’t.
to this day, I don’t know what stopped me. I tried to come up with a reason, telling myself that I was seeing someone else then, and it wasn’t a good time, and I wasn’t sure if I loved you.
I told myself not to be impulsive because we had the rest of our lives to figure things out.
I see now how ******* stupid those excuses were.
the man I was seeing then didn’t care about me, and he didn’t even try to act like he did.
and there’s no such thing as a perfect time to say something that you’re scared to say.
I remember how we stood on top of this massive hill one summer, and again, I found myself wanting to say “I love you.” and again, I didn’t.
the accident happened a few months ago. I just found out.
I’m sitting here, replaying all of those moments in my head, all of those conversations where I didn’t tell you what I wanted to say.
I should’ve screamed it from the very top of that huge hill that day so that you and I, and all of the neighbors below us, would know that I was sure of it. they’d know that I meant it. I did mean it, even if I didn’t have the courage to say it.
my mind keeps taking me back to that quote you said.
“it’s not always necessary to be strong, but to feel strong.”
what if I am strong, but sometimes I don’t feel like it at all? what does that mean?
I never got to say what I needed to say. even though now, I’m the only one who can hear it, I need to say it aloud. I need to get these words onto paper before they eat me alive from the inside out.