Letting You Go

I wrote this a while ago, it’s kind of personal but I want it to be ripped to shreds >:)
It’s kind of a story, kind of not, half true, and half not.

The second part was added later, just some after thoughts about the entire situation :/

Inspired by Fagan quote:

“Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again. ”

—

How We Let People Go  (Chelsea Fagan)

No matter how I hard I tug, he's trapped back there.  

The red string is flexible on my side, but when I try to garner a response, I get nothing.

I can see just were the break is, and it's like time and space have frozen him in midair, locked away in glass, a place just for him, and for us, and for the memories and for what could have been.

A place were I could pretend that nothing ever messed this up.

Like everything that was supposed to be said, was said and that he didn't change into something else, like he didn ’t fuck this up.  

That he really was just as sweet and loving as I had thought him to be and that he isn't the him he is now, it's wrong.

It's like they peeled off all the good that he was and stuffed him full of attitude and bullshit.

He is stupid and ungrateful.

And dishonest.

And a fucking coward.

If there was something wrong, you should have told me.

I would have understood what you meant.

But this you, he didn ’t care, and you lied, I ’m not as precious as you told me I was to you.

I’ve been trying to cut it, but it ’s been wrapped around and around with more and more thread that I didn ’t know had been accumulating. I couldn ’t see how much damage this would be. I couldn ’t have even imaged how much it would hurt.

I hardly knew him.

But I wanted him more than anything.

Over six months, the string of it had wound itself so large that it was more like a rope, and everyday I wanted to hang myself with it.  

Even now, a small part of me still does. And I done ’t know why, I done ’t want him anymore.

He didn ’t know it, but I loved him.

It took months, but had loved him each and everyday.

For weeks, he would be the first thing on my mind when I woke up, and the last when I laid my head down on my pillow and curled up and fell asleep.

Dreaming of when I would see him next.

Days at school would pass, and he would be all that I could think about.

I’d see other guys but none of them mattered to me like he did.

I put him up on a pedestal and would just sit beneath him and admire him, smiling, imagining the way it would feel if he was with me.

At plays, how he ’d be seated next to me, and we ’d make callous remarks about how silly this all is and then we could sneak to the back of the school and kiss and hold hands.

And even with people who were vastly superior to him, I ’d never want them, never the way I wanted him.

I was obsessed with my desire.

And, I loved the him, just the way that he was.

His smile and his sweet words.

His voice and the command he had, it could make me weak in the knees. Like an musk of pain that distinguished him from all others. You were always so wild on stage, it was kind of funny, honestly, but I really did enjoy it.

But most of all, how shy he seemed to be around me, he would always watch me, sneaking glances when he thought I wouldn ’t notice. We ’d make the most awkward eye contact. And when ever I ’d try to initiate a conversation, he ’d be too shy to even say something to me. And even when he knew that I wanted him, he couldn't look me in the eye.  

He wasn ’t embarrassed of me, he knew that everybody knew.

But he couldn ’t ever bring himself to do it.

It was really cute.

He always said so many nice things, and now  it’s so sad that I had to see him go.

But, I just done ’t desire this him.

It’s a worthless shell of what he was.

I want the him, the one that's stuck in the glass.

All of this, these memories that I ’m holding onto, the ideas of what he actually might have been, it ’s honestly just a memorable snapshot.

Something that I can look back on and be thankful because it happened.

And that he got the chance to know how I felt, because it ’s better than him having not known at all.

And, now I can smile when I turn and look back.

Not forgetting that he wrong me, but smiling because at one time he did care.

And so did I.

And that ’s okay with me, I ’ll hold on to the string.

Thankfully, it ’s fraying.

I can ’t wait till it ’s gone.

And all I can hold on to are the strands.

Memento’s of a path that ’s tried and closed.

…

But then, I see you again.

Not that I want to but I have no choice.

You’re there.  

And I done ’t know what to do.

I just pretend I done ’t see you I guess.

I’m sorry I was weird.

I'm sorry you changed.  

I have liked you for a very long time and I'm having the worst trouble trying to let it go.

I done't want to be angry at you, I want to be you're friend.

I done't know why I want this so bad, you have only made me cry.

Maybe it ’s because, I done't like being angry at people.

I just want to cheer you on, and tell you how great you did. I know you done't care about me anymore, and I done't want to care for you, but can't stop.  

I want you to be happy, and I want to be right next to you. Excited for you.  

I want too much, I know. But, this is the only thought that can bring me peace.  

I can't stand being mad at someone I just wanted to care for.  

I'm sorry you changed, but I still want the best for you