03 June 2009

I know, because I've seen it.

If she loves you, if she really loves you, you’ll know it. If you can wake up to her staring at you and it’s not even mildly creepy, if you catch her smelling the shoulder of the hooded sweatshirt you lent her for an autumn walk at the beach, and not for B.O., if she makes you a pancake in the shape of a shark, if she calls you drunkenly at four in the morning “to talk,” if she laughs at your jokes when they’re funny and makes fun of you when they’re not, if she keeps her fridge stocked with Guinness tallboys for when you come over, if she tells you how she wishes she were closer to her sister and that her dad makes her sad: She loves you, of course she loves you.
From Katie West's Tumblr
This is true. Every word.
Once, I had someone like this. I loved her, too, very much. Maybe she's still reading this blog. Probably not.
I loved her for a very long time - several years. We endured separation, troubles in both our lives, huge changes for both of us, what seemed like everything. We made it work for a long time, and when we were together, nothing could touch us. We were so happy, it felt like we outshone the sun.
Mere weeks before our four-year mark, it all fell apart. I still can't say whose fault it was, I don't want to. I tried, though, and I'm sure she did too. It just wasn't enough.
I still love her, a little. I'm pretty sure she still loves me, just the same. But nothing will ever bring us back to those years we shared, and we both know that, so it's better to go our own ways.
If you're reading this, my dear, know that you are forgiven. I will always love you.