Vest: Old Navy
Vest: Old Navy
I wrote you a letter many years ago... describing to you the amount of
pain that I was in. I wrote you that letter because I wanted to say goodbye but I didn't have the courage to do so at the time. As I was cleaning my room a few days ago, I found the letter at the very bottom of a box; underneath all the notes my best friends and I had passed between each other many years ago.
The letter was so articulate, so specific. As I continued to read sentence after sentence I began to remember the day that I wrote that letter. I was confused. T O R N between doing what I knew I should do, and doing what my heart wanted to do. I wrote you that I didn't really know how to describe my feelings for you. That every time you said, "I love you" ... I didn't believe you. How could I? Your actions always spoke more than your words.
For some reason, I wrote that letter as if I was a victim of your deceit, lies and selfish behavior. Maybe I was, but I always knew better. I always knew I could just.. stop. Stop answering your phone calls and text messages. I was free to do whatever I wanted. But I thought I owed you an explanation about why marriage wasn't an option, being with you was an insane illusion. As I read the letter, I told you that I'd never felt that way before and that I was terrified that I never would. That I'd never cried over a boy and that I now understood why breaking up with someone was so hard. I'm not writing you this letter, a letter you'll never receive, because I want you to know that I've held onto something of "yours" for this long. I've learned a very valuable lesson.
Trust is a very fragile thing. Happiness is a very fragile thing. Friendship is a very a fragile thing. Love is a very fragile thing. It takes so long to construct any of these things between yourself and another person and a few seconds to destroy it all. I know the exact moment I knew I didn't want to be with you anymore. The exact thought. The exact words you spoke.
I was 'broken' for a long time. Wishing someone else would come along to take the place that felt so empty. I'm still waiting. People always tell me that Mr. Perfect isn't coming. And that I'm too picky, too this or too that. But I believe. I believe that he is coming. For a long time, I thought that I would never feel those intense feelings again, that I'd be alone forever. Who's going to like me like you did? Truth is, you didn't like me. You liked who you thought I was, who I had portrayed myself to be. But as I've grown older and maybe just a little bit wiser... I believe that Mr. Imperfect is coming. And he will be perfect for me. So, I'll continue to wait..Patiently, sometimes not so patiently.
I finished my secret letter to you with these words, "I love you today but tomorrow I won't."
I suppose those words are as true as they were on that day... but today I'll end with these simple words. Thank you for teaching me what kind of person I DESERVE in my life. That love is a fragile, beautiful thing. Not everyone is lucky enough to experience it. And when it happens to me ... I'll make sure it's a today, tomorrow and forever thing.