(no subject)
Dear Andy,
I'm losing you.
Not in the way that I lost you before. This way is worse. I am forgetting things. Some of them are small. Regardless of importance, I can't bear to lose any of it.
I have lost the sound of your ring-tone. I have lost the fact that you used to have a black trench coat that you had borrowed from Justin Vincent, and what you looked like in it. Sometimes I forget which side the scar above your eye was on. Sometimes I have to struggle to remember what you look like in my memory, instead of a photograph. I lost what I used to look at when I slept at your Somerville apartment, just before I went to sleep. I have lost the sound of your voice almost completely. Never mind the way you said my name, or called me any pet name... or the way you pronounced "love." I can't remember your voice anymore unless I struggle.
I am slowly realizing some very very sad things about all this. One of them being that you must certainly feel nothing for me now, and that your life has surely moved on-- the way that my life did, when other people still loved me.
The other is much worse.
When you used to kiss me, my heart would beat faster, and I'd never know when the kiss was ending. Milliseconds after you pulled away I was still standing there, lips parted, thinking I was still kissing you. It happened as often as when we would kiss. I loved that you did this to me. It had never been done before. My head would swim.
I have kissed people since then. But I am afraid-- terrified really-- because I know its never going to happen again. Maybe I'll really enjoy being kissed again, but I'll never feel the exact same feeling that you gave me. I won't feel it ever. That's not stubbornness. That's not me not wanting to give others the chance to.... This is the realization that makes me cry every time I think on it.
Its over.
And I'm never going to feel like this again.
Some things will come close. And some things will be similar. Somethings may be as equally good and exciting. But the truth is that I've lost you and that feeling with you, for the rest of my life. It won't ever be the same.
Everything changes. What a goddamn shame.
I need to leave Boston. I can't stay in a place that reminds me so strongly of you. Everywhere I go I remember things we did together. Jokes we laughed at, comfort we gave. Where we held hands. Where you surprised me. In all of these places I loved you, so I have to go. Once I do, I'm losing the opportunity to ever even see you again. We'll never meet again. It's just facts. Maybe in May, I'll be better. I'm seeing a doctor. Its probably silly to see a doctor over a breakup, but I have the nagging feeling that something worse is happening to me. I am losing my mind. I have always been crazy, and weird and out there, but I have never felt like this before. But I want to feel better. I want to get better.
I wish just once I'd sat you down and looked you in the eye and told you that my greatest fear was that I'd found the one (that thing people talk about) and it was you. I didn't know if it was true. All of everything was telling me not to tell you. I knew that you didn't see eye to eye with me on it. I knew you didn't know or feel the same. I knew you'd be scared if I did tell you. So I never did. I wish I had now.
When I was younger-- I feel much older now than ever before-- I never thought that I would get married or have children. Essentially I knew it was because I would end up alone. Somewhere in the back of my mind.... I must have always known that would be true. For the very first time, I am sure that it is true. When I leave Boston, I'll never see you again. We'll never cross paths again.
There'll be others. Other loves. People tell me that this is true. My mother... my mother had the exact same thing happen to her. That forestry major crushed her heart. She found my dad. Even I'm not such a bratty kid that I can't see they love each other.
But I haven't gotten better since December. And I don't think I'll be better by May. Or better when I move away from Boston. Or better when my life moves forward onto the next grand adventure. It won't be better when I forget about you completely. It won't be better if I ever work up the nerve to love as greatly again. I don't know that I'm ever going to get better. Its in my gut. You have eclipsed everything.
I love you, and miss you very very much.
Love, Kate
I'm losing you.
Not in the way that I lost you before. This way is worse. I am forgetting things. Some of them are small. Regardless of importance, I can't bear to lose any of it.
I have lost the sound of your ring-tone. I have lost the fact that you used to have a black trench coat that you had borrowed from Justin Vincent, and what you looked like in it. Sometimes I forget which side the scar above your eye was on. Sometimes I have to struggle to remember what you look like in my memory, instead of a photograph. I lost what I used to look at when I slept at your Somerville apartment, just before I went to sleep. I have lost the sound of your voice almost completely. Never mind the way you said my name, or called me any pet name... or the way you pronounced "love." I can't remember your voice anymore unless I struggle.
I am slowly realizing some very very sad things about all this. One of them being that you must certainly feel nothing for me now, and that your life has surely moved on-- the way that my life did, when other people still loved me.
The other is much worse.
When you used to kiss me, my heart would beat faster, and I'd never know when the kiss was ending. Milliseconds after you pulled away I was still standing there, lips parted, thinking I was still kissing you. It happened as often as when we would kiss. I loved that you did this to me. It had never been done before. My head would swim.
I have kissed people since then. But I am afraid-- terrified really-- because I know its never going to happen again. Maybe I'll really enjoy being kissed again, but I'll never feel the exact same feeling that you gave me. I won't feel it ever. That's not stubbornness. That's not me not wanting to give others the chance to.... This is the realization that makes me cry every time I think on it.
Its over.
And I'm never going to feel like this again.
Some things will come close. And some things will be similar. Somethings may be as equally good and exciting. But the truth is that I've lost you and that feeling with you, for the rest of my life. It won't ever be the same.
Everything changes. What a goddamn shame.
I need to leave Boston. I can't stay in a place that reminds me so strongly of you. Everywhere I go I remember things we did together. Jokes we laughed at, comfort we gave. Where we held hands. Where you surprised me. In all of these places I loved you, so I have to go. Once I do, I'm losing the opportunity to ever even see you again. We'll never meet again. It's just facts. Maybe in May, I'll be better. I'm seeing a doctor. Its probably silly to see a doctor over a breakup, but I have the nagging feeling that something worse is happening to me. I am losing my mind. I have always been crazy, and weird and out there, but I have never felt like this before. But I want to feel better. I want to get better.
I wish just once I'd sat you down and looked you in the eye and told you that my greatest fear was that I'd found the one (that thing people talk about) and it was you. I didn't know if it was true. All of everything was telling me not to tell you. I knew that you didn't see eye to eye with me on it. I knew you didn't know or feel the same. I knew you'd be scared if I did tell you. So I never did. I wish I had now.
When I was younger-- I feel much older now than ever before-- I never thought that I would get married or have children. Essentially I knew it was because I would end up alone. Somewhere in the back of my mind.... I must have always known that would be true. For the very first time, I am sure that it is true. When I leave Boston, I'll never see you again. We'll never cross paths again.
There'll be others. Other loves. People tell me that this is true. My mother... my mother had the exact same thing happen to her. That forestry major crushed her heart. She found my dad. Even I'm not such a bratty kid that I can't see they love each other.
But I haven't gotten better since December. And I don't think I'll be better by May. Or better when I move away from Boston. Or better when my life moves forward onto the next grand adventure. It won't be better when I forget about you completely. It won't be better if I ever work up the nerve to love as greatly again. I don't know that I'm ever going to get better. Its in my gut. You have eclipsed everything.
I love you, and miss you very very much.
Love, Kate