I still think of you, all these months later.
I think of us relaxing together, holding hands, arms around each other, the strolls through the city with your dog, getting ice cream — all those hours in between hectic days when we could each be happy to just waste time with each other. I imagine your voice and your smile when you would get excited, would describe the littlest things. And your eyes, the way they’d open widely and close tightly. I remember your hand gestures and your body parts and your entire way of being.
I suppose the word cute is overused, but you exemplified it. You never thought so, though, which made you even cuter somehow.
I think of the sex, of course, which we were so good at together. I think of how uninhibited you were and all the things we did. Our bodies somehow just fit. I think of our chemistry, and how special it was. And how we’d fall asleep in each others arms and then cuddle in the morning. You know: all the good things.
I want to be in it all over again. I want to visit that time when we were us, in our love that you always questioned. Somehow you were never convinced, never settled. I know it was my fault — I never gave you the security of a firm commitment , never promised you the future… But still, it was real for me. And it doesn’t just go away. It still flashes in my mind from time to time, pulling me back into nostalgia.
What do we do with that feeling? I wonder. Is there anything that we can do? This is where my own fears and insecurities come in because as much as I miss this, I will always want more, will always wonder what else is out there… This is my problem, and I still feel bad about it. I think too much about the future, about its uncertainty, about limitless possibilities. I’m just so damn insatiable, so curious. You would forever see my wind wandering, my eyes darting.
I fear commitment. And you’ve gone through so much pain in life, so much loss. You fear abandonment. Our issues are incompatible. We came to this conclusion. So would it even make sense to try and meet up again?
You’ve probably moved on, anyway. Maybe back to an ex, maybe not. It’s probably for the best. I think about what we each need, and maybe he’s better for you. I think about better matches for each of us. And I know these thoughts are dangerous for your insecurities — how could I love you if I’m thinking like this? But don’t you see? I want what’s best for you, and I doubt that I am it. You need to feel safer, more protected.
I do like being single. I like meeting new women. I like freedom. I like variety in life and noticing little treasures in others. I like how different energies between people manifest in different ways. I cherish the adventure of the unknown, the independence. But, of course, the grass is often greener. I still miss our relationship.
I wish we could see each other. I wish we could still talk. Sometimes I send you texts. You ignore them because maybe it’s too painful to think about getting back into all of it. Maybe if we saw each other, we’d want to have sex. Maybe that would be a bad idea because it would lead us right back here — me unable to love you the way you want to be loved — totally and completely. And you do deserve that love. Won’t I keep you from finding it?
Why can’t I just love you the way you need? Am I not capable of loving? I feel like I am… But I guess I love in my own way, which is deep but somehow fleeting. Maybe this is a waste of your time. Even if you wanted it momentarily, wouldn’t you eventually resent me for it? This is my fear: that I somehow got back into your life so that we could each glimpse again that joy we know, only to hurt you further, and cause more pain for myself too. Open wounds, right?
Really, I wish we could be dear friends. I want you in my life somehow, anyhow. Just sitting across from each other in a cafe would be nice, hearing about things, caring, sharing time, just to be on the other side of your face for an hour…
I suppose it’s selfish of me to want just to borrow you — just take a little bit more of your time. I think of more nights, more trips, more everything. But it’s not enough. It’s not all of it. It’s not the moving in, the wedding, the kids. And you want it all or none of it, right? I wish there was something in between, because here I am, still thinking of you.
Keith Telfeyan is a storyteller and editor of words & pictures. Local in California, New York & Berlin. Likes: art house cinema, whiskey, staring out windows. Dislikes: early mornings, disorder, time passing too quickly.