Silver Tsar
New Member
At my work I see dozens, hundreds of people. Many of them are just another face in the crowd, a veritable water molecule in an unending ocean. But I recognized her.
The only person I've ever fallen in love with was free-spirited, sweet, and cheerful. I remember the memories we shared, running around the streets I grew up on, thinking the world was like a song or a story. It was because of them I wanted to become a writer, and revel in fantastic worlds, sharing the wonders of imagination with them. I remember wanting to travel with her, and see the sights of Europe and many places farther afield. I remember thinking of growing old together, of achieving our dreams together, and just the simple things - coming home from work and seeing their bright luminous smile, writing letters and poems together, telling a quiet joke and hearing their lyrical laugh.
It was all for naught.
My own insecurities, my own fears, my own selfishness; these were the sins that destroyed my ideas of tomorrow. For want of confidence and courage and compassion, I nailed the coffin on those dreams shut. My own naivety, in trusting that all would end well when I spoke a lie to protect her, ultimately spelled the end. When she moved away, I missed her but knew all would end well, for stories always end with a happy ending, and isn't life but a story writ large?
I was wrong.
My lie caught up with me. Everything crumbled. My love believed the words of others, that I never felt for her as I truly did. I could have explained, I could have told her the truth that I loved her, but fear held my tongue. When she, in what I can only presume to be her anger and sadness and grief, asked that I exit her life forever, I acquiesced. My own rage and frustration and grief caused me to erase any way of contacting her. I did as she asked, and left her alone.
Life goes on.
I moved on, and have lived my life since as best I can. I matured and saw all the mistakes, both minor and major, I made in our relationship. I accepted that what was will never come to pass again. I vowed to look ever forward, and to grow from my mistake. And I did; I have. Seeing her reawoke old regrets. Not regrets over what might have been, or could have been, or any of that, but regrets about my own actions and the pain I caused. I regret that pain. I pray to whatever is out in the universe that she is happy - she deserves it. Late at night, I remember and think about what could have been, but accept for reality what is; the loss of her has made me who I am today and though I can acknowledge my faults, I can also acknowledge my virtues and both have come about because of my life up till now.
I guess I'm writing this just as a memorial of sorts. I never told my friends, nearly all of whom I met after the events described above, what happened, and since then I've kept my feelings on the matter bottled up. The sight of her, 7+ years later, reawoke the need to tell someone, anyone, of what transpired. And so I have.
I write not to ask for pity but to organize my thoughts and make my final peace. I realize and recognize that many suffer far greater then I do; take not my writing as a plea for sympathy or a desire to be read, but as an action of healing. The last seven years I have always been tormented by my actions, and now I have come to realize it is time to accept what is, and make the most of what will be. Our paths diverged, and thus it is and shall always be. I can only hope she finds some measure of happiness in someone worthy of her, just as I might one day find a small piece of happiness in someone worthy of me.
The only person I've ever fallen in love with was free-spirited, sweet, and cheerful. I remember the memories we shared, running around the streets I grew up on, thinking the world was like a song or a story. It was because of them I wanted to become a writer, and revel in fantastic worlds, sharing the wonders of imagination with them. I remember wanting to travel with her, and see the sights of Europe and many places farther afield. I remember thinking of growing old together, of achieving our dreams together, and just the simple things - coming home from work and seeing their bright luminous smile, writing letters and poems together, telling a quiet joke and hearing their lyrical laugh.
It was all for naught.
My own insecurities, my own fears, my own selfishness; these were the sins that destroyed my ideas of tomorrow. For want of confidence and courage and compassion, I nailed the coffin on those dreams shut. My own naivety, in trusting that all would end well when I spoke a lie to protect her, ultimately spelled the end. When she moved away, I missed her but knew all would end well, for stories always end with a happy ending, and isn't life but a story writ large?
I was wrong.
My lie caught up with me. Everything crumbled. My love believed the words of others, that I never felt for her as I truly did. I could have explained, I could have told her the truth that I loved her, but fear held my tongue. When she, in what I can only presume to be her anger and sadness and grief, asked that I exit her life forever, I acquiesced. My own rage and frustration and grief caused me to erase any way of contacting her. I did as she asked, and left her alone.
Life goes on.
I moved on, and have lived my life since as best I can. I matured and saw all the mistakes, both minor and major, I made in our relationship. I accepted that what was will never come to pass again. I vowed to look ever forward, and to grow from my mistake. And I did; I have. Seeing her reawoke old regrets. Not regrets over what might have been, or could have been, or any of that, but regrets about my own actions and the pain I caused. I regret that pain. I pray to whatever is out in the universe that she is happy - she deserves it. Late at night, I remember and think about what could have been, but accept for reality what is; the loss of her has made me who I am today and though I can acknowledge my faults, I can also acknowledge my virtues and both have come about because of my life up till now.
I guess I'm writing this just as a memorial of sorts. I never told my friends, nearly all of whom I met after the events described above, what happened, and since then I've kept my feelings on the matter bottled up. The sight of her, 7+ years later, reawoke the need to tell someone, anyone, of what transpired. And so I have.
I write not to ask for pity but to organize my thoughts and make my final peace. I realize and recognize that many suffer far greater then I do; take not my writing as a plea for sympathy or a desire to be read, but as an action of healing. The last seven years I have always been tormented by my actions, and now I have come to realize it is time to accept what is, and make the most of what will be. Our paths diverged, and thus it is and shall always be. I can only hope she finds some measure of happiness in someone worthy of her, just as I might one day find a small piece of happiness in someone worthy of me.
