To my Grizzly Bear,
The idea of you was enough to love. And there were so many things that could fill up the space you occupied, the hours I spent talking to you, the long conversations we had that I still remember vividly, or thinking about you, or thinking about what you were thinking about.
I didn't know what life was like without you, and I still don't. I didn't want to imagine it because it seemed ugly and cruel and I still loved you. After a couple of years in and out, perhaps some fizzing out was inevitable. Maybe we're only good at brief encounters - checking in on each other every couple of eons or so. But what if... What if things were different? Maybe it was worth resuscitating.
But my insecurities always won. Without fail, I'd be screwing everything up with my complicated reverie and absurd analysis and actions of things. I'm weak and I hate myself for not being strong enough to hang on. To hang on to you and never let you go.
There's something wrong with wanting it so much, wanting it despite never having had it, not being able to walk away from it.
I love the idea of you, it's all I have.
What a fucking mess. You didn't even speak my language, you didn't live in the same environment and time-zone; worlds apart you said, you thought I was killing my music by doing something mellow when I should be out doing something dangerous and illegal or something, you constantly asking me if I was off my medications. I was difficult and overbearing and full of existential conflicts. Yet you are not replaceable. Something always brings me back to you. No one else said the kind of bold, outrageous, senseless things you said. No one else was as flawed to perfection as you.
Whenever you come look, I'll be there. Every time.
I don't hold anything against you. I've come to terms that it's over and I don't have any kind of resentment towards you. Everything happens for a reason, and maybe it just wasn't possible between us. Not in this time... this lifetime. I wished I told you how badly, how very badly I wanted to be there with you. I've never wanted anything so much. I would've done anything and everything possible to make you happy. If only. There are just some things that one cannot comprehend and I know this is probably unrequited. But nothing is going to change how I feel towards you. I want you to be safe and happy in your current and future endeavors. I know I have to understand. Only one of us will be happy. Then I'd rather it be you. And if that requires me to stay away from you, I respect your decision. I wish all your dreams and wishes came true. I wish for you to find someone that will make everything worth it; someone important in your life, a warmth to provide encouragement when motivation fades, to wake up next to, to fall asleep happy. I hope for all the happiness in your life, because you deserve that, so much. I wish you nothing but all the best.
I wished one of you could just tell me how I can get you, ma raison d'etre, to forgive me for the treacheries of my heart, for thinking of no sin to give it away more than once, give it away when you were busy chasing mountains and dreams. When you left, such a maddening vacuum inside me that the universe rushed to fill it; I wish I knew how to tell you I'm sorry and convince you to stay.
And you, I wished I knew how to ask for your forgiveness after you fitted into me like an extension of my own body and soul, and tell you how sometimes even the most perfect love in the world is not enough, how perhaps the most perfect loves are the ones doomed to fail. I wish I knew how to tell you how destroyed I am, and how sorry, but how the goodbye I've been silently dreading since that first conversation is now just waiting to be relived again and again and again.
You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness...
Like resignation to the end, always the end.
Perhaps one day I will have the courage to send this to you, a letter you can touch with the stain of my perfume on it as a kind of proof that this is real, to tell you all I wanted was for you to tell me you owned me and then actually own me, act upon the useless promises of love and give this a try. I love you because it is your shape I see when I feel peace in the caves of my deepest ecstasies. Remember this. I loved you then, I love you still. I have wanted you always, and will always want you and I will love you despite betraying you and getting consistently numb. I will still love you despite it being... much too late.
It's a simple, stupid love and I can tell them all it's the most honest lie I've ever lived and that nothing else in life makes me feel like this and that nothing ever will. Life may get better, but I don't want better because this impossible presence you have - there's nothing else. No one else who can make me shiver in joy and sorrow alike. I don't need better because this makes me happy like nothing else ever will. I can walk away whenever you want to protect me, I can put things on hold till it's too late and people become nuclear-strayed ghosts of themselves. I can move on with my life and become vacant, unfulfilled, indifferent and unhappy with everything. I can tell myself it wasn't real and then wait till it's too late. Then I will one day tell you I never did stop loving you.
If this isn't love, I don't know what is.
Fyy
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