A letter to the man who will make me want to forget the
happiness of being alone:
I wish I had not met you.
It took me so long to break out of the company of worthless
men. I took pride in walking the roads alone, earphones on to block out the
sounds of society that I had genuinely stopped caring about. It was a wonderful
time of my life, where memories may not have included conversations and the
sharing of feelings; instead, music, poetry, lyrics and a fascination for the
world took over my life in the best way possible.
Unfortunately, though, I must take back what I said. I have
always been someone who accommodates change into my life. And I will do the
same with you. If I like the idea of a certain change, it’s easier to adjust
and allow the newness to become more familiar, which I notice is the case with
you.
For this reason, I wish I had not kissed you. The
butterflies in my stomach are like uninvited visitors, and you sometimes make
me wish I hadn’t leaned in. I have not known the touch of a man less savage
than me, and to have you occasionally hold my hand scares me. You were once a
stranger to me, if you remember. I’d rather go back to that than to have you
let you in close and leave without a warning ever so often.
You know what you have done to me, don’t you? Exposing me to
how comforting your touch is, I have lost my will to hide any shyness or
patience that may one has nested inside me. I need you more than I’d like to
admit to myself. But while I show it externally as a physical urge, I wish
you’d want to know, well, me.
I don’t think I’m very good at differentiating between the
physical and the emotional. Worse, I don’t want to differentiate and convince
myself one way or the other. There is something different about your kiss, or
the lack of it. I hate that you know how fascinated I am with you, by the idea
of you; how you can see me blush uncontrollably when you look at me. You
probably don’t feel the same; or at least, you do a good job hiding it.
For someone who has always befriends words, I hate that they
are deserting me when I want to understand why I should go back to the way
things were. There was something so natural and simple about being alone. But
you came in and made me want to unlearn that feeling, which disappoints me
because I’m quickly warming up to the notion of you.
It’s the littlest things that make a difference, short-lived
as they may be. The idea that this feeling may one day fade away just like the
others has not even crossed my mind, yet. It probably will, considering how I’m
so prone running back to the arms of loneliness. But while I still have your
attention, kiss me once more. Whisper the sweet nothings, shower me with
affection and hold me while we sleep. I may not get the right response at first
go, but I’ll learn. I think I want to.
Hopefully yours,
Me.
