Even After All These Years, I Still Love You
Sometimes I wish things were different. I wish that all those years ago you convinced me to stay and I let you. I sometimes let myself drift back to those days and wonder what would have happened if we had just worked out. I wonder if our paths were intertwined, would my soul still be so restless as it is now?
Sometimes I like to think that we were destined to be and that now that you’re gone this hole inside of me is a permanent fixture. Sometimes when the rain falls just right, it reminds me of the last time we ever saw each other. It reminds me of driving home behind your car and crying so much that you saw me in your rearview mirror. Then you called to ask if I was OK.
But I wasn’t OK. Losing you was one of those things I always knew had to happen but never fully accepted. It was a pain I couldn’t even comprehend. It’s a deep cut that probably won’t ever heal. It was my own naive state of mind that kept me from understanding that you and I just don’t work out.
Because I loved you. I loved you in a way I don’t think I’ll ever love another person again. I loved you in such high highs and such low lows that consistency in our relationship would have felt foreign. I loved you so fucking much that I’ve written full books on just how much I did.
