Songs this writer recommends listening to while reading this!
- see you later (ten years) by Jenna Raine
- locksmith by Sadie Jean
“Longing is the worst type of heartbreak: unrequited, unreciprocated and self-inflicted.”
This piece will be a strange sort of love letter.
one part confession, one part apology and one part reminder.
I was never totally honest with you. not maliciously of course, never that. It was more of a complete and utter denial of my own feelings, feelings I never truly realised came into fruition until later, when the lyrics of all my favourite songs started to sound like you.
When you mentioned the “L” word it was like red sirens blared in the back of my head, triggering my fight or flight response, because whatever between us could not have possibly been love, could it? It was far too fresh, far too confusing, and far too quick for either of us to have labelled it as such. So, I pushed it aside, with a “whoa whoa,” palms pushed forward as if by doing so I could create a physical wall between me and my emotions.
But then we were walking through shelves of books, and I watched as you showed me some of your favourite authors and I found myself oddly at ease, content with just watching, as you rambled.
No butterflies in the stomach, just… calm
And then we called, till way past our bedtimes, with me charging my laptop on the cold floor of my bedroom as we exchanged stories about our childhood, our families and just about whatever topic imaginable.
Again… no butterflies, just a strange sort of solace, which was odd for me because who would have known that I could have found that with you? The banter, the honesty, the astonishing number of things we had in common with each other. It was baffling and comforting all at once, the way we communicated, with me able to instantly understand what he meant, even if it was just the difference of a few words. Slowly but surely whatever there was between us started to become a bit too real.
That weekend I woke up and found myself looking forward to your texts, random snaps of your life, was what should have clued me in. But perhaps I was blind to whatever I was feeling because it was impossible that someone like me, independent and cynical to a fault could love someone I was just getting to know, in a span of a few weeks nonetheless.
That was where I was wrong.
This love wasn’t analytical. It wasn’t something that I could have written a pros and cons list for, as much as I wanted to.
So, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for lying to you and saying that I just “really really like you.” Because in truth? I must somehow have loved you, in more ways than I realised.
I must have loved you.
Or else the end wouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.
Or else I wouldn’t be sitting, typing this out at 12.14am, while still thinking about you.
So, I will take my feelings for you, this undeniable, inexplicable sense of belonging, love, connection for you and store them in this letter. A letter that I will bury in the pages of this magazine, this time capsule, as a reminder of myself of this fleeting, intense love that came unforeseen, but one I will remember, despite it being over. And I will wait, half in terror and half in hope that you will stumble across it, maybe in days or months or years from when this is published.
And wherever or whoever we are by that time, I’m praying the laws of the universe will allow us to start again… and do it right this time.
written by midnightrain