Dear George

I miss you…

Why did it have to end that way? Eight months later and I still cry every time I let myself truly hope that I will get to see you again, hug you again, lay in your arms, feel your kiss, your touch, the comfort that only you were able to provide in my lonely world.

I have tried moving on but each time I lay on his chest the only thought pounding inside my head, trying to be loud enough for someone to hear and come to my rescue, is that he is not you. His hands don’t know every curve of my body. His lips feel foreign pressed against mine. Laying with him I am only longing for home, searching for a moment in time that you and I will never get back.

Our love made no sense and yet all of the pieces seemed to click into place. With you I felt seen in a way that nobody has ever dared to recreate.

Yet I look back and know that it wasn’t all rosey like the glasses I refused to take off. In so many ways you were everything and simultaneously you needed so much that I was unable to give. I demanded your presence and selfishly wanted you to love me in a way that I know now you are incapable of producing.

What changed? Why didn’t you want me anymore? Why was I always thought of last, a burden in your life that you felt needed appeasement? Waiting hours in my tiny apartment cell for a ten minute glimpse of that love and affection you once poured over me as though I was the one with the magical powers to make your life bright. Holding up the weight of the sun to shine light into the dark, forgotten corners of your life; I guess reality looks different when the cloak is stripped away. Vulnerability lurking in the corners begging for acknowledgment, we became close friends and I understood its pain.

The blame for our demise plays countless rounds of ping-pong that never seem to end in a clear victory. The best version of you lives rent free amongst the rationale clips I click through in my head everyday when the world gets quiet. The suggestion of movies that I push to the end of the queue as I chase the comforting feel-good classics down endless roads.

The pain emerges as a fresh wound each time the imposters break in to pose their continually unanswered questions, “aren’t those good ones tainted too. Didn’t they become romanticized through life’s editing room, their true nature cut into ribbons on the floor. Who are you to be trusted with that judgment call? Who are you to believe that anyone ever loved you”?

The worst part about it all is that the person I thought was protecting me, was the one using me as a shield. Happily coaxing your demons to the dinner table, only to walk out as the main course was served. Leaving me to fend for myself as I defended you. Cleaning up your baggage as it flew around the room. Nowhere to be found as I am screaming for you. A gut wrenching plea for who I wanted you to be; who I wanted us to be.

Even though the dust seems to never want to rest, and the place where our roads meet subtly becomes a pin point on the Horizon, I know that I will never regret it. You should have nothing but love, happiness, and peace throughout the rest of your journey. Know that through everything I still love you and always will. Your spot in my heart will forever be reserved, diligently guarded by the choice to believe what we had was real even if it was just a stop over along the way.