Rainer Maria Rilke, from Rilke’s Book of Hours, I, 45.
the day after i told you i needed some distance from you, all the poems and stupid love songs started making sense. i went to the bookstore and almost bought just about five books that reminded me of you that i thought you’d really like before i realized that we weren’t a thing anymore. and i mean, we were never together — you weren’t mine to begin with and you weren’t mine to end with — but we were okay with that because sometimes the possibility of what could be ends up being better than what actually is. we were just 3AM phone pals, physically distant texting buddies, coyly flirtatious could-be-something-more’s. and no, i wasn’t in love with you— the entire purpose of me cutting communication was because of the fear that i would slowly be — but we were two similar beings with a mutual understanding in how we saw the world and other people and we realized our sadness but we simultaneously realized our ability to go on despite it and as much as it might suck, i can live without forehead kisses and holding hands and waking up alone but now that i’ve brushed that closeness, I don’t know if i can live without that. and i don’t know if i’ll ever find another mutuality such as ours. it’s like i saw the color blue and you saw the color blue and there was no way i could describe to you what that blue looked like to me and there was no definitive proof that you and i were seeing the same blue, but we both knew in our hearts that our blues were one and the same. so no. i was not in love with you, but i was in love with how much less alone in this world you made me feel.
which is why i think i really fucked up. i stopped talking to you because i was feeling these weird feelings for a person that i hadn’t felt to that extent before. i told you i couldn’t talk to you anymore because our survival rate was below 50%. i told you i needed space because you are beautiful and knowledgeable and experienced and fun and i purposely let my shyness eclipse the parts of myself that could be those things. i told you I needed to distance myself from you because if i am a drop in the ocean, you are a tidal wave. And to stay with you meant an inevitable drowning, and I am afraid. i killed our amazing closeness out of fear, but what kills me is that you didn’t try that hard to stop me from stopping us. you tried a little at first, but after I told you that every time my phone rang I wished it were you and every time a boy talked to me I compared him to you and how I was scared that as a person that tried to stay generally pretty detached from people that I was feeling myself slowly becoming attached to you, you didn’t try hard to stop me from leaving. You told me you understood and you weren’t upset about my decision. Why weren’t you upset? Was my schoolgirl-like honesty too much for you? Well, I can’t change how I feel, and if that were the case then maybe you shouldn’t have told me that I was your perfect soulmate or told me things that you hadn’t told anyone before or joked that Louis C.K. would officiate our wedding or talked to me until I fell asleep or told me that we were destined to meet. You should have just let me be. Why did you have to awaken something in me?
Maybe you’re just not one to tell others how to live their lives. Which I’m hoping for, because among the answers that I’m searching for, that’s the one that hurts the least. I told you how I felt and all you could say was that I should think about what “would help me grow the most” and which one gave me “zen”. And I don’t hate you at all for any of this at all, but fuck you. I haven’t had inner peace since you came into the picture, and I spilled my soul for you and you couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell me how you felt. You’re here telling me that our entire relationship was based off of me and what I wanted. . And what helps me grow. I didn’t start talking to you because I thought you’d help me grow. I talked to you because I liked you, as a person. Because you were beautiful to me. And you told me I was beautiful to you. So why didn’t you stop me from stopping something beautiful?
Now that all is said and done, I regret doing what I did. I wish I stayed ignorant to my attachment and your apparent lack thereof. I wish that we could have been something and then nothing, rather than nothing altogether. When I’m alone and up at 3AM, all I can think about is you.
fuck. i’ve ignored all grammar rules and i’ve no used the f-word three times. this is what you’ve done to me.