I dreamt last night that I was loved. You were not there. I was surrounded by softness and peace and I knew it was fleeting then. It was in the eerie rooms of the airport where I had planned to see you one day. You've never been. I saw somebody I met last week. He reminded me of what I liked about you. He was sweet. He was thoughtful. He took an interest in me. He was a little bit shy. You used to be like that too, a long, long time ago. But the cold February day that you stopped loving me had come and gone and passed us each by. I miss the boy who remembered my birthday and said I was esoteric and mysertious and called me his darling, his dearest, his love. But that boy is you. I can never miss you, with your coldness, and your cruelty. I could never miss being told I meant nothing, that I felt too much, that I would never be good enough. I miss believing in something. I miss the thought in the back of my mind that despite my constant agony I have someone back home who will be happy to hear my call and to see my smile. You never got to see me smile. I never got to see you smile, either. I suppose the gap of thousands of miles was the downfall. Could your love have sustained if you could hold me? If you had a form to touch, could I have beared the time apart? No. No, it is in your nature to tire soon of my selfishness and heartache. It is in mine to lament and cling to you. Your soul is a square, uniform and brutalist, sharp at the edges. Mine is a blooming orchid, soft and frail, desperate to be nurtured. You feigned gentleness for my sake. I feigned strength for yours. Both of our flames burned bright beside each other but both fought for the dwindling air. We both burnt out. I sucked the heat from the embers, and you doused it with water. I screamed and cried and grasped at the ghost of what we once shared. You crushed my heart beneath your shoe. My dreams go back often to the promises we made each other last winter, of love and trust and faith. I dreamt once that we were older and shared a home and a sweetness and all the sins and hurt of today were forgiven. I hope more than anything it won't come true. I can never forgive you for sucking me dry and leaving me a lifeless shell of a woman. I can never forgive how mean you were at the end, no matter how kind you were at the start, no matter how kind you may become. If you call me I will answer before my heart beats. If I could hear your voice again, one last time, one apology, I could feel so much more at peace. "My fair --- who lie on far-off bed of eiderdown, how I miss you so. I miss your light, your warmth, your laugh, your love. I hate myself for how I have wronged you. Please, dearest, give me one more chance," you say in my dreams. Every sweet thought of you calls back to those few months of happiness. Every kind word you say in my mind is from a times long gone or from myself. You never called me baby, you never said I was beautiful or smart or witty. You said I was pretty three times. You called me gorgeous once and I didn't say anything about it but I should have because nobody else said that about me and you never said it again. It was at the end of a long day for you. You were probably tired and forgot it was me, young girl from middle-of-nowhere, me, your "country bumpkin" girl, me, ugly and neurotic me, and thought it was some other greater lover from days before. I tell myself that to stave off the idea that I caused it. You told me when you left that it wasn't at all my fault but then you said you couldn't bear knowing that I hurt and cried and you couldn't stand hearing me tell you about it anymore. If you couldn't handle the thought of me in pain, especially at your hand, why would you leave me at my weakest? Why wait until I was shattered and trying desperately to pick up the pieces to abandon me? You knew what happened to me, how low I was, and yet you still chose to vanish when I needed you the most? When I needed anyone at all, and you were all I had? I can never forgive you for that. You plagued my nightmares for weeks. Then you left and
You disappeared from my dreams for a long month. I never felt so free. With you gone I could be held and treasured and recognized as I am. I had boys who were nothing like you calling me and telling me how beautiful I was and how smart and witty and every sweet nothing which escaped their lips reminded me of how you never said those things. Then they would call me a nickname or make a joke or reference a movie and my stomach would churn at the memory of you and I'd drop them. After that month I stopped entirely. I haven't missed even one of them. Only you have maintained such a grip on me that I cannot eat or sleep without your image floating before me. That month where you never appeared in my dreams or notifications was the only reprieve I had. Then you reached out and came back to my mindscape and have dropped in from time to time to remind me that we used to be in love. When I was with friends at dinner I had an enlightenment that the love I desired was around me all along and I simply could not see it. The joy I craved so desperately came from laughter with friends and late night gossiping in the hotel and splitting gelato with a boy who laughs at my jokes and admires my resolve. A man who will drop my heart at the first twinge of sadness, who knew from the start that I was a delicate creature, can only bring anguish. The life in my eyes came not from some epic romance or the prospect of a kiss. It came from sharing a slice of cake under an umbrella, it came from having a shoulder to rest my head on. It came from having eyes to meet while watching a movie, it came from a chattery ride home. It came from anywhere but you. I wish our circumstances were different. I wish we shared a hometown and could spend starry evenings eating ice cream and laughing and holding each other. I wish you could have kissed my head and stroked my hair. But no, we were not meant to have that love. I've learned since that I cannot live with the thought of wasting my time again. Never again will I allow the folly of short term excitement and flattery distract me. Never again will I allow myself to fall in love, never with someone so distant from me. Never with someone who looks like you, who sounds like you. Nobody will compare to you. I can never replace the depth of feeling I had with you but I can never bear the feeling of my chest ripping apart and my head splitting and the constant dull ache of longing. I died every day with you. Two hundred and two days. Two hundred and two days of my short life wasted on you. And then another one hundred and one afterwards spent trying to forget about you. Three hundred and three days. You've stolen the better part of a year from me. I will never forgive you for making me so miserable, for convincing me to hate myself and to believe that I was nothing without you. I will never stop wanting you to give me back my time. I will never get it back. This is the last you will get out of me. I won't act in revenge, I won't try to win you back. I must fall so deeply in love, more in love than I was with you, or with anyone, with myself, and with my ambition. I must commit myself to success, to growth, to my own satisfaction. I will never reach you. I must grow so far past your level that you are forced to look at me in reverence and know silently that you lost the chance with me. You will hear an interview with me on the TV, you will read a book I've written and recognize my photo on the back, you will see a movie I made, you will pick up a poem I wrote. You will never, ever escape me, and you will never, ever reach me. Such is the only peace I know. You will never catch me again. I will dream tonight of being loved, and you will not appear, and you never will appear again. Farewell, my darling across the sea, for once and ever more.
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