Memories linger in little moments. Remember when I would touch my hand to your arm, to your shoulder, and a line of goosebumps would appear on your skin? I think about that now, the way your skin reacted to mine, the way your feelings rose to the surface of your body as if you had no control over them. I picture your face in ways that it reacted to mine. Sometimes you would smile and it would light up your whole face, and it was all just because I had walked through the door.
Do you remember that day at work, upstairs in the storage room at Bullitt? I never understood until that day what it meant to kiss someone in a way where your body just gives in, where it takes everything in you to make it through the seconds beforehand. I can compare it to the time I kissed you in that same space, and it felt forced, felt like you were dutifully allowing me to kiss you. But what would be the point? Why cheapen experiences for the way they stand next to each other linearly?
Most relationships are not black and white. They are filled with good moments alongside the bad ones, and are not wholly defined by either. Sometimes I think I still haven't realized that.
You made me feel so beautiful. Sometimes it felt like I was the only girl in the room, or at least, the only one who mattered. I was happy in our little universe. I was ready to lay my dreams down, ready to give my life to yours, ready to create something together. It didn't feel perfect, but it felt like what we had was bigger than anything else.
Our relationship was not linear. Or maybe it was, I don't know. But I know that I haven't felt anything for anyone since you. Not the way that I felt everything for you. I don't wish we were together, or hope for a chance for us to get back together; I don't think the person I am now could stand to be with the person that you are now. I think our paths diverged when we broke up, when I finally was forced to leave you behind and pick up myself.
Have I given myself enough credit for the ways I truly did leave you behind? For the ways I pushed myself forward, even when it hurt, even when it felt like everything was wrong? No, I haven't.
You chose for us never to speak again, but I chose to leave Bullitt, leave you behind, give myself the space to move on from you, to not be the girl pining over you forever. You made me feel like a monster, like an idiot, brought your new girlfriend in front of my face, made me feel stupid for trying to humanize her, for trying to humanize myself. But I had the courage to walk away from you, to get in my car, to hang up the phone and stop calling you forever after you told me that we shouldn't ever speak again. I had the courage to book a trip to Hawaii for myself after you told me you didn't love me anymore. I had the courage to go, to make friends, to surf and to lie on the beach, my head in the stars. I drove to the top of Haleakala by myself, went on the Road to Hana by myself, drank coconut water and followed a sea turtle through the waves on the green sand beach.
Do you remember that day at work, upstairs in the storage room at Bullitt? I never understood until that day what it meant to kiss someone in a way where your body just gives in, where it takes everything in you to make it through the seconds beforehand. I can compare it to the time I kissed you in that same space, and it felt forced, felt like you were dutifully allowing me to kiss you. But what would be the point? Why cheapen experiences for the way they stand next to each other linearly?
Most relationships are not black and white. They are filled with good moments alongside the bad ones, and are not wholly defined by either. Sometimes I think I still haven't realized that.
You made me feel so beautiful. Sometimes it felt like I was the only girl in the room, or at least, the only one who mattered. I was happy in our little universe. I was ready to lay my dreams down, ready to give my life to yours, ready to create something together. It didn't feel perfect, but it felt like what we had was bigger than anything else.
Our relationship was not linear. Or maybe it was, I don't know. But I know that I haven't felt anything for anyone since you. Not the way that I felt everything for you. I don't wish we were together, or hope for a chance for us to get back together; I don't think the person I am now could stand to be with the person that you are now. I think our paths diverged when we broke up, when I finally was forced to leave you behind and pick up myself.
Have I given myself enough credit for the ways I truly did leave you behind? For the ways I pushed myself forward, even when it hurt, even when it felt like everything was wrong? No, I haven't.
You chose for us never to speak again, but I chose to leave Bullitt, leave you behind, give myself the space to move on from you, to not be the girl pining over you forever. You made me feel like a monster, like an idiot, brought your new girlfriend in front of my face, made me feel stupid for trying to humanize her, for trying to humanize myself. But I had the courage to walk away from you, to get in my car, to hang up the phone and stop calling you forever after you told me that we shouldn't ever speak again. I had the courage to book a trip to Hawaii for myself after you told me you didn't love me anymore. I had the courage to go, to make friends, to surf and to lie on the beach, my head in the stars. I drove to the top of Haleakala by myself, went on the Road to Hana by myself, drank coconut water and followed a sea turtle through the waves on the green sand beach.
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