I find myself continually pouring over the details in an almost frenzied manner. Dissecting each text message this way and that, attempting to wrap my head around what the word understanding even means these days. With each word skirting past my eyes as if they were lamp posts passing the car in a distant memory of some vacation we took a lifetime ago, when happiness was a word which I still knew the definition of; I find myself dreaming of possibilities so inconsequential they may as well be the script of a movie. As I lay awake overanalyzing every moment, every single second we spent together, I can’t help but think of just how much you would laugh at me now for not living in the moment as you know I used to dream of being able to do. We both knew that what we had wouldn’t last forever. I knew this to be the case because no relationship can continue forever, they end as soon as one passes on. You knew because you had already decided what we had was temporary.

I’m sorry for misunderstanding.

Feeling yourself drifting apart from someone with whom you’ve shared so much raw emotion with is something that I don’t think I could ever have described until I felt it happen with you. It’s an emotion which you can truly feel. It’s an emotion that can only be described as a ship having its anchor torn violently from the safety of the sea bed, destined to drift out into a sea of pain and misunderstanding. Slowly, day by day, the serenity that your touch gave me faded.

The transition from spring to summer that year came with changes that I don’t think either of us (mostly I) could have prepared for. Had I known that that spring day would be the last day you truly held your candle for me, I may have done things differently. Had I had just a few more days to show you that I could be more than a heaping mess of a man who drank too much and cared too little, maybe things would be different. Or perhaps if I had less time to spend with you, you may not have realized so quickly that I didn’t, don’t, and never will deserve you. Even now, what is years that feel like lifetimes later, your soul still allows mine to become infatuated with the idea that we could be more than a semester of hopes that turned into nothing more than that.

There is always the explanation that it simply wasn’t the right time. I, of course almost prefer this idea because it means it isn’t because of my serious character defects that we never were. Despite all of this, We’ve remained close. Perhaps closer than I should be to you. An addict will always insist he can be surrounded by his vices all the while secretly hoping he can sneak just one, single, taste. We’ve remained close because I know that if I ever truly lose you, this is where the spiral begins. It’s been so long since I’ve allowed the intoxicated side of me to message you at 3am to ask why we couldn’t be. I’ve convinced myself that expressing my feelings to no one except a half empty bottle and a keyboard is a better idea than that. I truly can’t tell which of these days you’ll snap at me for waking you up every time I drink just a bit too much. I’ve felt the precursor to that moment and I can say that the minuscule twinge of annoyance I’ve heard in your voice is enough to sober me instantly; yet every night it seems, freshly drunk me forgets how much I hate seeing you frustrated with me. It’s been so long that I don’t know if I could ever know the true inspiration behind what has become the single most painful experience that I wish to ever feel again. The one thing that we all know, including myself,

This too, shall pass


I’d like to take this opportunity to thank not only Kam for giving me a platform to share parts of my book, but you for reading this far. Not everything you see from me will be exactly like this but it’s a start.

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