For the past six months, your notes have been showing up in my inbox the same way your presence would make an appearance during the time we were together. Time was random and required juggling. Unpredictability was the norm. Non-committal the key ingredient. Your notes would appear to scratch the same need than the face to face encounters: perfectly timed to fill the holes in your heart and soul with my energy and spirited, witty self, in the way I only know how to do. I do believe you when you tell me how much you miss me. “There is so much more I wish I could say or do” read a very recent one.
The truth is, I miss you too. Every day, every hour, every minute, every second. But the other side to that truth is that six months ago, you yourself chose to leave my life. I have gone through the roller coaster of emotions. I have tried hard to move on and to mourn your loss and be able to find my life back, do all the things I love doing, all the things we used to share, including having the friends we know in common. And I have not been successful.
Our relationship was not traditional, I know. But I still adored you. I was happy with what you gave me and what we had. And then it happened. We were like the teacher and the student that were caught in some kind of romance, and you got called to the principal’s office and sent to teach at another school, mid-year.
I am aware that grieving takes time. The problem is that our relationship did not quite end. There were no good byes, no explanations, no closure. Our beak up was filled with abrupt, hurtful actions that contradicted everything that made me be with you. A series of misinterpretations and empty promises followed. And every time your notes would hit my inbox, the excitement would build, and the joy of having you back would become real. But reality would soon hit and the cycle of grieve would start all over again.
As the holidays approached, and the new year started to be visible in the horizon, I came up with a plan. I was ready with a response to whatever you’d send me next. I had it all figured out in my head: you either give me the answers I need and help me come out of the hole I ended up in because of what you did to me, or you have to leave me alone. My door is open. You can either be in or out of my life, but do not stand in the way. No one has been able to cross it because you are blocking the way with your presence. And what is worse, I have not been able to cross it either and be back where I belong because of it.
And there it was. New note in my inbox in bold letters calling for attention. But I could not do it. I did not have the courage. I could not challenge you with my question because deep down I knew there were two possible answers, and one of them meant that the random notes will cease to exist. They may be gone forever. And so will you, and us. And my hopes and the thrill of finding a way to chat with you in a way that made me happy again prevent me from asking. It even made me forget how I was feeling and even felt lust and desire again, and a need to see you for reasons that would not do us any good.
Yet, the agony of not knowing when and how or why the notes would come was and is still cruel.
It’s been a few weeks since I last heard from you. I realized that I had to stop thinking with just my brain as well as my flesh, and let the heart tell me what is right for both, and for me particularly. My heart would be the only one that can find balance. Not anger, not lust. Just the right dose of you and I. So I have decided that instead, I will ask a different question. One that requires work. But one I value “to the moon and back”. And here I am writing this open letter to you, in the hopes that one day you will read it. Here I am, standing like a little girl looking up, to ask if you’d be my friend.
I don’t know what that would look like. I still feel the passion that exists between us. I still feel anger for your mistreatment and your ghosting. But I still adore you. I still have the strength in me to work through the hurdles and find a way to rescue our friendship. Friendship is something I take very seriously, something that I don’t compromise or go into part time.
I am afraid of losing the smallest things I still get from you. But I have to ask. Because it’s time. So here we go:
Do you want to be my friend?
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