PYROGRAPHY

Dear Bug,

It has been nearly 4 years since you’ve walked through that door at Park Ave Pub. That inevitably means it has been 4 years since I have been in love with you. 

We came close didn’t we? But we never quite got to that relationship status. I often wonder where we’d be if we had taken that chance. I believe we wouldn’t have shared half of the arguments we have since. But that is neither here nor there, because we did not take that chance.

As of late, my mind is not so optimistic anymore. I used to cling on to some of the things you’ve said and tied them to the hope I had in my heart. Like that time we took our friends niece to get ice cream and walked back to the house and you said , “Look at us, with a little girl walking through a white picket fence up to the house.” Or when all of our friends made fun of me saying I was the real life Ted from How I Met Your Mother and you texted me from the same room and wrote : Ted gets the girl.

Each little statement outweighing the unhealthy arguments we shared and keeping that mind of mine optimistic. I’ve felt absolutely, certifiably, insane the last few years. Bipolar, love sick. Yet somehow, that very same neurosis felt more like a big hug rather than weights shackled to a broken man.

I’m not sure why this happens to some of us. I surely know I am not the only man who has loved another with all of his heart yet did not receive the same in return. When you think about it, there are 7 billion people on our planet. Simple math would tell you you’ll never find the one. The majority of people are so damn lucky. I found you, the only shitty part is, the universe doesn’t promise when you do find the one, that you are the same one’s one. I hope nobody every finds there one if this is how it feels.

I’m not sure what you are supposed to get from this letter, in fact, I’m not sure what I aim to get from it either. I think some part of me thought I’d fall into some poetic beautiful rambling and when you read it you’d read it in the characters voice of Noah from the note book. It would sound profound, genuine, true, full of love. Unfortunately, I am as average of a writer as I was a significant other. 

At least you’ll probably never read this. And it won’t feel nearly as bad as those texts I send with no reply. I never expected you to see this so there is no let down. Maybe that is the answer, maybe, even though you were the surest part of my severely indecisive life, I should never have expected to be right about this. 

Still, even though you will never see this, I feel the need to leave you with something positive. So I gotta tell ya. Don’t feel bad for me, or guilty you could never love me back. I do not regret one single thing. One second, of one mine, of one hour I have spent with you. I find comfort in knowing I am capable of loving so deeply. It is my hope, I don’t lose that love, rather turn it around and aim it back at myself. I am hurt, I am sad. But I have no given up on love. If I can love myself the way I have loved you.... Well, than maybe... I’ll find out I was my very own one this whole time after all. 

For the laughs, the hugs, the kisses, the advice, the sympathy, the empathy, the friendship, the gifts, the looks, the sweet texts, the pictures, the conversation, the insides jokes, the sports, the competitiveness, the hope, the heartache, and everything in between. I am grateful. 

Love,

Forever and Always,