Words | Anonymous
I gave myself to you. At least I tried. I think I did.
Or maybe I never did. Those around me, those with whom I was frank, knew I saw no illusion of permanency.
At the start I was consumed by you. You polluted my thoughts and conversations and dreams. This was my first time. Nothing in me doubts you were the same.
Mutual attraction, requited affection. Novel and welcome I awaited every text, meme and phone call insatiably. Among the clouds of juvenile lust and desire I had not yet decided we were not destined for eternity.
The passing of a few weeks, a month perhaps, I concluded we were serious. A single orbit of the sun serious. Only one. Following our year, I would sever our romantic ties and relegate us to friendship. That would be my power to hold over you.
I envisioned myself as the destroyer. I was lulled into this notion not only by my own preconceptions but others, who would tell me that you liked me more than I you.
But I cannot blame others for my naivety. They gave credence to my existing ideas. Ideas of breakups, love and friendship. You could no doubt read me better than I thought you could. When I drank I was loose lipped. And absent minded. Whatever filter I had disappeared.
Maybe the sanctity of my inner self was violated not by your psychoanalysis but by my carelessness. These are answers I will never have. I do not even think I want them.
I also failed to consider one key and ultimately deciding factor: you. Although I had control of myself, I had no power over you. Our commitment to openness and frankness reassured me that I could never be blindsided.
If you ever considered ending things, you would talk to me first. But you didn’t. You pulled away, but still called and texted. You let me blow you not a few days before you dumped me.
Frankly, I see that there is a part of me that not even I can have, let alone you. Everyone has this part. Foreign even to themselves. Was this what you wanted?
We were built, however short lived, on honesty. And yet, honesty was our undoing. Our honesty deceived us.
If I am being frank, I did not love you. I could have. Maybe. We will never know. There were no tears for you. I say this not to hurt you, but to be truthful. After all, that is all we asked of each other.