I missed those summer nights where I snuck out for a minute just to see you. Every kiss was stolen and meant so much. I remember thinking we were forever. How foolish I was then.
I thought we were good together and I stupidly believed it was love. I was wrong. It was nothing but young infatuation. A puppy love that wasn’t love at all.
When we were finally together, I realized you were not what I wanted. But I liked the idea of us. The history we had; the childhood friends that fell in love. The story it could’ve been. When it was finally time for me to commit to you and you to me. You were all too ready, and I just couldn’t.
I wanted to end things and you would never let me. You picked an argument with me instead. You knew how I loved to argue. My pride didn’t allow me to leave it alone then. Now I know better.
Then it happened. It was two in the morning and I was reading when you called me. You needed me to come get you and caring so much about you, I did. I was pissed. It was two in the fucking morning and you were at a party I knew nothing about. You told me you were home. You didn’t want to come over because you were tired from the day. A lie far too easy for you to tell.
I wanted to know what happened at the party and why you lied. Instead you turned it around and got mad at me for asking. For not trusting you and giving you an attitude when you just wanted to do was go sleep.
We sat in the car for what felt like hours, but they were really just minutes. There was so much screaming at each other and I hated it. I was done with your excuses and I was tired of the lies. I stopped my screaming and just looked at you for a second before getting out and leaving you there. And that was it. We were over.
When I got home, I thought about the first time we met. How you made your way over and I thought nothing of it. Somehow we became friends and throughout the years we ran into each other, no way of avoiding it when we lived on the same block. You made sure to always come over and talk to me. I didn’t think anything of it. We were friends and that was all. Ever so slowly, my infatuation grew without my realization.
I found myself hoping I’d see you that day and every day back then. I constantly wanted to talk to you. When I started showing interest, you changed. You were hot and cold with me. I didn’t understand why and of course, I blamed myself. For years, you were hot and cold and eventually I stopped worrying about it, about you.
Now we were older. I dated some and you made it known you didn’t like it, but you never told me anything else. You were still playing games and I was so sick of them. I told you that and you decided you were done. You were ready, so we gave it a shot. And another, and another, and another. We were on and off for so long that I didn’t even know what the point was anymore. My feelings weren’t there and you knew it. You knew me better than anyone and you saw it coming but didn’t let it happen. Finally, I didn’t give you a choice and I walked away for good.
I still think about those days and how foolish my young self was. Lost in the idea of love but not truly feeling it. Now I’m older and understand that the idea of someone isn’t enough to build something substantial and lasting with them. I was young and I was so fucking stupid, but I learned. Then when I fell in love for real, I knew better and my heart still got broken. And from that I learned. I learned to love myself before anything or anyone else. To take pride in all that I do and be proud of what I’ve been through. And most importantly, to really think about my feelings instead of ignoring them and jumping into things I know will hurt me later on.