That Boy who Changed.
The first time I met you, you weren’t supposed to mean this much to me. But you do, or did. Back then, it didn’t matter that we had known each other only for two months,I could tell what you were feeling through a simple worded text message. I thought you would be cheering me on when I graduated and we would shed tears of happiness at our weddings, and that you would be the uncle my children would have otherwise never had. But it’s funny how things work out isn’t it? Our friendship fell apart as quickly as it had started.
I trusted you, I opened up to you. I shared with you my hopes, dreams and secrets. And in that process I fell in love with you. Because you were a dream come true. I felt like you understood me, and that I could be myself, or whoever I wanted to be with you. You didn’t judge me, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I couldn’t lose what we had, so I cast off my feelings as a silly crush.
But somewhere along the way, we lost it anyway.
It’s the not knowing that hurts.Not knowing how we got to this position, not knowing if there exists a ‘we’. I look back and I wonder where it all went wrong.There was a period after we stopped talking when I’d rack my brains for a reason. I’d go back and read our conversations, look at our old pictures and try to remember what being next to you felt like. My insecurities began to emerge. I wasn’t the prettiest, or the smartest why would you want to be friends with me? I started to think that you said you loved me, only to get close to my skinny, pretty best friends. And then you were done with me.It hurt so much.
And I didn’t want to feel that way. It was like a constant pain in my heart.I hated the feeling. I started convincing myself that you were a bad person, that I didn’t need you, and that I had just been infatuated by the attention you paid me, by the mystery that you portrayed yourself to be. I hated on you, every time I saw pictures of you making new memories with people who weren’t me, I could feel the jealousy rising inside me. When did text me once, instead of the love I used to be able to feel even through texts, I felt awkwardness, so I was a raging bitch. I convinced myself that you had always been a horrible person, and that you hadn’t meant any of the ‘I love you’s’.
I know now that I was wrong. So I want to thank you, for everything you taught me, for everything you did for me. I want to thank you for being the first boy to hug me so tight I never wanted to let go, for being the first boy to kiss my cheek and tell me he loves me. Thank you for being that friend I needed.
I will always need that boy. The thing is you’re no longer that boy. You changed, you’re no longer that boy I loved. And that’s okay. You’ll be the story I’ll tell my daughter the first time her heart is broken.