Aug 2013
I swore to myself I would never let your name weave its way into my mind again, and splatter itself along the lines of my notebook, but darling its late, and I am sad.
I do still remember the day we spoke for the first time. The air felt peculiar and the water tasted different. We stood in the courtyard, love and lust and teenage angst pulsing through our veins. If I do recall correctly, you waited for me. You waited for me and you walked with me back to my room. And that night I waited up and I prayed that you would call. I prayed to a God I previously denied my soul to that if there were a chance in hell of pursuit, you would knock on my door.
The next few days do blend into one, I must admit. I do remember vividly the climb up la tour Eiffel, also our discussions and talks on the boat we took along the Seine. I remember le Louvre and how I cried and how you apologised. ****, I wish you'd apologise. I recall the most mundane things; like how you'd call and when I said I had to go, you'd be reluctant to talk to anyone else.
That phone, we must have spent hours sitting up next to that phone. 1079. I'm sorry, I am so sorry. I am such a mess. It's not your fault. I'm not making sense.
That day we took the bus around the city was a funny day. My boyfriend was mentioned and your eyes rolled. You never quite looked at me the same. I felt that. McDonalds was our destination at one point. ****, how did you make McDonalds seem 5 star? You made everything seem better than it was. Or maybe it was my rose-tinted ******* glasses, I wish I could see without them.
Recollection of glancing upwards and seeing the sunlight dance off the Chanel logo. You point across the road towards a homeless man with two cats; you make a joke and we both laugh. You start to tease me and you hit me, so I hit you back and you hug me. I swear in that second I could have altered the universe.
I never did understand the contrast in Paris. Whether it be the melancholy in Disneyland, the monotony in le Louvre, or the look of boredom on a beggars face, staring at a multi-million dollar clothing line; it was all confusing. I think the most confusing thing was figuring out just what I wanted, just for me to have to give it up, and be expected to give it up just as easy as I gained it. I gained you and you were something I never wanted to lose, and you gained me, you gained me and you felt baggage.
But if there was one moment for you, if there was one millisecond; maybe where you glanced over at me in that restaurant and wished you were sitting next to me, perhaps in the store when you strolled past me and wished you'd have stayed to make conversation, EVEN going to dial my number and refraining - if there was a moment for you, in which you wanted me, but were unsure of my feelings, that is enough for me.
I don't need you to love me now. It's been over a year and it still hurts to hear your name sometimes, but I've learned to laugh with the pain. I just hope there was a moment for you in which you wanted me, and assumed I didn't want you. Because if there was, ******* it if there was, you must know I feel that every ******* minute of the day. Still. And I wish you love and I wish you all the luck in the world for wherever life takes you, and maybe someday we'll meet in a coffee shop, and we can laugh about all this. Maybe we won't. But despite my best efforts to keep this going, despite the downfall and the loss, I wish you the best. And I think that is both the hardest and the most satisfying thing for me; letting go.
I do still remember the day we spoke for the first time. The air felt peculiar and the water tasted different. We stood in the courtyard, love and lust and teenage angst pulsing through our veins. If I do recall correctly, you waited for me. You waited for me and you walked with me back to my room. And that night I waited up and I prayed that you would call. I prayed to a God I previously denied my soul to that if there were a chance in hell of pursuit, you would knock on my door.
The next few days do blend into one, I must admit. I do remember vividly the climb up la tour Eiffel, also our discussions and talks on the boat we took along the Seine. I remember le Louvre and how I cried and how you apologised. ****, I wish you'd apologise. I recall the most mundane things; like how you'd call and when I said I had to go, you'd be reluctant to talk to anyone else.
That phone, we must have spent hours sitting up next to that phone. 1079. I'm sorry, I am so sorry. I am such a mess. It's not your fault. I'm not making sense.
That day we took the bus around the city was a funny day. My boyfriend was mentioned and your eyes rolled. You never quite looked at me the same. I felt that. McDonalds was our destination at one point. ****, how did you make McDonalds seem 5 star? You made everything seem better than it was. Or maybe it was my rose-tinted ******* glasses, I wish I could see without them.
Recollection of glancing upwards and seeing the sunlight dance off the Chanel logo. You point across the road towards a homeless man with two cats; you make a joke and we both laugh. You start to tease me and you hit me, so I hit you back and you hug me. I swear in that second I could have altered the universe.
I never did understand the contrast in Paris. Whether it be the melancholy in Disneyland, the monotony in le Louvre, or the look of boredom on a beggars face, staring at a multi-million dollar clothing line; it was all confusing. I think the most confusing thing was figuring out just what I wanted, just for me to have to give it up, and be expected to give it up just as easy as I gained it. I gained you and you were something I never wanted to lose, and you gained me, you gained me and you felt baggage.
But if there was one moment for you, if there was one millisecond; maybe where you glanced over at me in that restaurant and wished you were sitting next to me, perhaps in the store when you strolled past me and wished you'd have stayed to make conversation, EVEN going to dial my number and refraining - if there was a moment for you, in which you wanted me, but were unsure of my feelings, that is enough for me.
I don't need you to love me now. It's been over a year and it still hurts to hear your name sometimes, but I've learned to laugh with the pain. I just hope there was a moment for you in which you wanted me, and assumed I didn't want you. Because if there was, ******* it if there was, you must know I feel that every ******* minute of the day. Still. And I wish you love and I wish you all the luck in the world for wherever life takes you, and maybe someday we'll meet in a coffee shop, and we can laugh about all this. Maybe we won't. But despite my best efforts to keep this going, despite the downfall and the loss, I wish you the best. And I think that is both the hardest and the most satisfying thing for me; letting go.
