You know what I find amazing? How you can love someone once and then after years try to tell yourself that you've moved on, when really, you never have. Not completely, at least. It's like that one person stole your heart, shattered it into a million and three pieces, and then decided to return the ruined item except for a single shard. They cary the fragment with them everywhere they go, saved inside of them, so a piece of you is constantly missing. You only feel whole when you're around that specific person because they have what completes you. It's that missing piece that haunts me.
Every time I try to write, it ends up being about him. Every time I let my thoughts wander, he crosses their path. Everywhere I turn, another memory arises. I don't love him the way I used to any longer. I'm done trying to deny the fact that I did not love him because I was too young, or I don't even know what love is. Those are lies and I think I've finally come to terms with that. What I often tend to forget is that, as I've said in numerous past posts, he was one of my best friends. Right now, I feel like my 'romantic' love for the guy has faded and what remains now is the fact that I long to be close to him like I once was. I love him for who he is, and I don't need to be dating a person to feel this type of love. I mean, the kid is everywhere and in everything I see. It's hard not to forget about him.
Now, I've never been the type of person to be reminded of another by any sort of inanimate object or — especially — by a song. BUT WAIT. Here's the twist:
'Hotel California' - The Eagles.
'Radioactive' - Imagine Dragons.
I cannot bring myself to listen to either of these songs without thinking of him throughout the entire time. He probably doesn't even remember the moments he carved the songs into my heart and claimed them with his signature. I do. I always will. The events in which these songs became so personal were spaced years apart with very different context, and there was a contrasting connection between me and him. They were both small, insignificant situations; nothing even worth noting. The thing is, the times that weren't noteworthy were the times I loved him the most. He wasn't trying to get attention, nobody else noticed him, it was just the two of us. He was being himself — a rare sight — and I was and still am one member of the small collection of people ever lucky enough to have witnessed it (although he'd deny it, of course. Blame his ego).
Although the past few years have been a mess between us and there are many words I wish I'd said, there is one thing I'm glad I kept to myself: That I ever had feelings for him. He probably knows, but the fact that he's never had closure on that assumption (I hope) probably still leaves him wondering. He's never heard the words from my mouth and I tried, and still do try, my hardest to keep it that way.
Do you think he lies awake at night, reliving his past, and comes across me? Do you think he has the desire to discuss with me what really happened all those years ago? These are two of the infinite questions that make course through my mind nearly every day.
Did he ever feel the same way for me? Maybe, maybe not, I don't know. I don't care. If anybody does know the answer to this question, I plead that you keep the answer to yourself. I hope that I never find out. I'll be ruined either way.
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