how many times, we’ll never know

· An open letter to L. ·

August 10, 2016 2 Comments

There's a question mark in the place of a spark that used to be an answer aiming straight for the heart but you missed the mark and the arrow turned to cancer.....

Packed it like a punch, out to lunch
I got a little hunch that stood out from the bunch
As if that’s not enough, I even knew the reason why
That God damn bitch of life, she made me cry
So I’d like to poke her squarely in the eye
And it hurt so much I feel like I could die, yeah

This day is not any different. Much like any other lately, it’s like the same old busted record on repeat. The same nightmares wake me up every couple of hours. I feel like I just need to get the story of you and I into words – a story that never began, never ended, just sort of was but wasn’t; a story some days I wish never existed. The happiest and saddest story. After all that has happened, none of it feels real. You broke me and walked away, leaving me to pick up the pieces. Part of me thinks that if I am able to extract all of these emotions and somehow put them into words that maybe, maybe finally I can move past the ghost of you. I’ll be able to let you go. Since it’s impossible to talk to you now, I have resorted to this…will you ever see it? Probably not.

October 17, 2012, I received a message on the secondary Facebook account I had created to test some security settings. The message was from a handsome man with penetrating blue eyes. I’ll refer to you as L. L asked me if I was a nurse and knew someone named Sarah. I responded back that I was just a computer geek. We wrote back and forth for a bit until you learned I had a boyfriend. Even though the relationship was pretty much over, I was still with him and still wanted to be loyal until it was definitely over. Anytime I had received a message from you, I felt like a teenager plagued with puppy love. My heart raced when I checked my messages after work and saw your name in my inbox. No matter how crappy my day had been, a simple “hello” from you was just what I needed to chase the black clouds away. So, when you stopped writing it made me sad, but I respected your decision to keep your distance.

Then March 18, 2013 – two days after I had dumped my ex-boyfriend, you texted me – how ’bout them Penguins? Talk about timing.

Casual conversation soon turned to us each revealing our relationship statuses – single. We talked for hours upon hours, and then finally met in person the first week of April. I must have changed my outfit a dozen times – unsure if you were even real. The photos on your profile could have been old – they could have been fake. There was no way a man as incredibly gorgeous could ever find interest in me. I had no idea what to expect.

Then you showed up on your white Ducati, removed your helmet, and I was met by those blue eyes. I think you were wearing your tinted contacts that day. They were the bluest of eyes I had ever seen. I had developed feelings for you over the phone, not knowing what you truly looked like. Meeting you in person was a day I will never forget. You were such a gentleman. You didn’t try to get into my pants. You didn’t demand any sort of physicality from me. You wanted to get to know me. And sadly, in this day and age, it’s not common for someone to actually want to get to know you. They just want to fuck you or fuck you over. So, I thought you didn’t like me. Which ended up being funny, because you thought I didn’t like you.

Meeting you in person, it was if I had forgotten simple human functions like breathing, blinking, talking. I was so enamored by you.

You and I continued talking. Like clockwork, your text or call would come in at the same time and my heart would leap. I felt myself slowly falling for you. You were the first man I revealed my true, raw self too. My damaged self. You made me feel safe. For the first time in my life, you made me feel that being me was enough. It was like someone was placed on this Earth solely for me, that I found a love that was meant for me. You. You were meant for me. A one in a million chance meeting – you’ve called it that a dozen times. Facebook kept telling you I was someone “you may know.” We talked like we’d known each other in past lifetimes. Talked for hours. Being completely real with each other, vulnerable. That’s what you said you liked about me. That I was real. ANd the irony was that you were the furthest from “real.” You lied to me so much that I don’t even know what was the truth and what wasn’t.

Late 2013 – that was the year your dog passed away. Seeking comfort in one of your exes, you revealed to me your intention to get back with her. And I was crushed. So, I started chasing D. I met him at work and thought him worthy of pursuit. He had that kind of smile that would light up a room. A few months later you reached out to me. Things had already ended with your ex. You displayed some sort of coquettish jealousy that my interests were captivated by another man. However, by summer of 2014 that fizzled out when I found out from a friend that D was asking out girls on a dating website. You never realize how small the world is until the guy you’re after asks out the daughter of a friend’s friend. Like seriously. Anyway, that hurt me…so…I reached out to you. But now that I was interested, you weren’t ready for any sort of commitment. An unbalanced game of cat and mouse.

While getting dating advice about D from a guy we’ll call K, conversations soon grew flirtatious in nature with K. By August of 2014, K and I decided to make things physical – that colloquial term – friends with benefits. A fuckship. He was a lot of fun. A tattooed, silver fox. I found myself growing close to him. He had such an outgoing personality and I just always had so much fun in his company. My texts to you grew less and less.

The fuckship with K soon fizzled too. I felt a heavy layer of betrayal when I learned from Facebook that he was in a relationship. I knew from the beginning that it was only to be physical, but still – as a friend, he could have let me know that he was fucking someone else. If not for my feelings, then at least for my sexual health. They call it “friends with benefits,” but I felt less like a friend and more of a benefit, for him. I felt very…cheap. I still feel like my so-called friendship with him is strained, well if not strained, then visibly different. ANd I hate that.

October 2015 you and I picked up again. I’ll never forget that 3-hour conversation we had while I sat on the beach. As we said our goodnights, I almost let an “I love you” slip. It felt so right. Then that night in November at my house was magical. The way you held me – it was as if the whole world stopped for a moment. Our bodies connected like two puzzle pieces. I never wanted to lose the feeling I felt that night.

We later talked about moving in together, you remodeling my home, selling it for another home with a bigger yard. We talked about what we’d do to the basement. Then you pulled away. Again. Spring of 2016 you revealed some news to me. I don’t know why you were afraid. The news made me ecstatic. Then you pulled away yet again. I had to learn from Facebook that you got married last summer.

Why you never told me, I will never know. Your lies started to unravel. But only because I was unraveling them. You might think you’re good at being deceptive, but you’re sloppy at it. You told me yourself that you’ve never felt as close to someone as you do to me. Was that a lie too? I look back and wonder how much between us was actually true. I was honest the whole time except for one thing – how I felt about you. You knew I liked you, but I never said how much. I fell in love with you, hard. The deepest love I have ever felt for someone, but also the loneliest. I have revealed things to you that I have NEVER told anyone else. I TRUSTED you with my deepest, darkest fears, my dreams, my memories.

I fell in love with you, with full acceptance of your past, your present and what I thought would be our future. I put you on such a high fucking pedestal that I chose to ignore any signs that led me in a different direction. Because if the road didn’t lead to you, why would I choose that road, ya know?

I thought you would be the one guy who wouldn’t break my heart. It just baffles me and confuses me how we can go from having such an amazing time to not even talking at all. Because of you, my walls are so fucking high. I’ll probably push away anyone good who comes into my life. But I don’t know when I will be ready to let someone in again. Not any time soon, I imagine. It’s too painful. Your apologies bounce off of me. How do I even know they’re sincere? How can I trust anything that you say anymore? How do you go from the man I trust the most, to a complete stranger? In a heart that was once full of hope and optimism, it is now polluted with melancholic distrust and confusion.

Love doesn’t happen like it does in the movies. Sometimes it happens without warning, painfully and sometimes the people given love just don’t know how to handle it. They cast it aside. Too much has happened between us now that even if situations changed, I think we are completely irreparable. Nothing lasts forever – and that is the most painful truth of our existence.

You left me a mess, but I am fucking beautiful.

August 10, 2016

Jessica Mariella

Amateur Photographer. Nature Enthusiast. Traveler. Foodie. Green-eyed girl with a big heart from Aschaffenburg, Bavaria.

2 Comments

  1. Reply

    Anon

    August 11, 2016

    If a man lets you go he is obviously an idiot

  2. Reply

    Just a person

    April 25, 2017

    Girl, you are a catch. There’s some1 out there for you

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