Right now my heart is heavy. I'm miserable at the moment. Today I found a box. A box full of things from you; of you. Of us. Letters, pictures and other such and such. I was scared to open the box, but I did. And then I touched things, picked them up, and I looked at them. It was hard. Mostly hurt. Yesterday I saw you. Yesterday I talked to you. Yesterday my heart hurt. I wanted to hug you, but I know I screwed up big time. The day before yesterday I found a notebook. A long time ago I started a text journal. Texts from you. Texts about me and you. Some of the sweetest things I've ever heard are written in that notebook. Like how you would eat only vegetables for the rest of your life if you could be with me even though you hate vegetables. And talking about dancing around and singing because of how happy I made you. I read them all. Then I read it again. I laughed. I cried. I smiled. I ached. And then I regretted. I regretted ever having said goodbye to you. This isn't the first time I've felt this way, but I used to be better at pushing those feelings away and ignoring the pain. I burned a lot of bridges the day I said goodbye. I hurt a lot of people. You, your wonderful family, my family, but mostly myself. That's what I get for being defiant and stubborn. For being irrational and jumping into things without thinking them through. Every day I've missed you. Most days I'm thinking about you; wondering about you.
I finally apologized. It's taken me a long time to admit outloud, or even to myself that I was wrong. Too long. Too little, too late, right? You told me you forgave me, but it still hurts. You hurt more at the time, but I hurt more in the end. I'm babbling on right now because I want to talk to you, because I miss you, because I miss us, but I probably shouldn't. So this is making me feel better, and I can say what I would say to you. I'm not quite sure this wound is completely healed yet. Who knows, it might not ever be. And even if it does, I don't think it will have the end result that I want.
I miss your family. I missed them as soon as I said goodbye, and there were many times in the couple of years that have followed that I still find myself missing them. They're wonderful. They were so good to me. They were so welcoming. They were like my family, which made me love them even more. I miss them. I miss the sleepovers. I miss cooking quesadillas with mozarella cheese. I miss making cookies. I miss the laughs. I miss the crazy stories. I miss the friendships.
I'm trying to find comfort. Solace. Peace. The feeling of knowing it's okay however it ends. It's hard. I feel like I've been taking steps in the right direction, but it's a slow process. I'm a little impatient. And I think more than anything I'm wanting it to happen my way. The way where we end up with the happily ever after, but I don't think I get that now. Not now anyways; maybe never. But even if I don't get it my way, I'll always be grateful for you and everything you taught me. Everything you showed me. Everything you did for me. It means more than I could ever tell you.
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