For You I'll Be Superhuman

The first – I’m sorry. How I left… that’s inexcusable. Leaving a letter, not waiting to talk face-to-face or even over the phone – that’s entirely on me. I changed my phone number once I got back in the States and, just for good measure, blocked your number. So I have no way of knowing if you’ve tried to contact me. But I can assume you probably haven’t. And I don’t blame you! This is not a letter of blame like the last one, I promise. Please, please, see it from my side. I was so consumed by love for you but I could feel you pulling away. Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe you had a whole life planned with me in your head. I know I did. You were my air, surrounding me. I lived and died off of you. Did you feel the same? Did you ever feel the same?

The second is this – I tried to cut myself off from you. Like I said, I moved away, changed my number, blocked yours – whenever you were announced on the radio as the upcoming song, I changed the channel. I skipped the SNL episodes you hosted. I had friends go out of the way to drive a different route just to avoid your album billboards on the highways. But, despite my best efforts, you crept in. Grammy’s, Met Gala, cover of magazines in the checkout line. Each glimpse of you shattered me just a little more. I always think, “Did I do the right thing? Did I give up too soon? Did I not fight hard enough?” But when I ask, “Would I do it over again?” my answer has always been yes. We weren’t healthy together, at least back then. In the end, my leaving has forced me to grow up and be more independent. But no matter how independent I get, you’re always in the back of my mind. No matter how hard I try to forget you, the world tries to smash you in my face again.

Last week I was driving to my mom’s for Christmas and I was listening to some “chill” playlist on Spotify. I didn’t look at the track list, but I should have. Your track, “Falling” came on. I knew the second you started singing that it was you. I was going to skip to the next song, but something told me to listen. So I did. You’ve always had a way with words, but this song was beautiful, Harry. Truly. You’ve perfectly captured what I was feeling the day I left and most days since then. The feeling of longing to something so dearly, so wholeheartedly, but knowing in the end it was doomed. Then you mentioned the Beachwood café. My café. The café where we met.

This is the reason for my letter. I’ve been going back and forth since then of whether or not to write this. But the not knowing is making me lose it.

Was “Falling” for me? Was it to me? Were you hoping I’d hear it? You could have chosen any café in the world, or even made one up, but you didn’t. You specifically chose the Beachwood.

I played that song… God, I don’t know, at least a dozen times. Once you mentioned the café, I had to listen to it over and over to analyze each word. The song is about missing someone, wanting them back, and falling deeper and deeper into that feeling. Is that true? Is there a part of you that, at least at the time of writing the song, that wanted me back? Was there a message you wanted me to hear? I could do a deep dive of every line, but I’ll spare you.

I don’t expect you to write back. This may not even be your address anymore. It’s been so long. Four years. Wow. And if this isn’t your address, then that means some stranger has read this whole letter. That’s not awkward at all. If this is you, well, you have my address now. If you want to write me back, you can. I’m gonna go before I embarrass myself any more.

I hope you’ve been well.

                                                 Always,