The Words I Was Never Brave Enough to Say

I think we've all gone through a time where we've written out a message to a person we've loved after they've hurt us. A message that depicts all our deepest and darkest vulnerabilities, and says all the things that we couldn't say to their face. Why couldn't we? Who really knows. Didn't want to hurt them? Felt helpless? Like it wouldn't make a difference anyway? Who can say. For me in this particular instance, I guess I didn't really know how I felt about the whole situation until long after the window of opportunity to say anything was gone. I was eighteen and had met a guy who had completely swept me off my feet. Nothing hurts like your first love, right?

When I think back to it though, I wonder where the seven years have gone. It only seems like yesterday! It's weird what time does to you. Don't get me wrong, I moved on a long long time ago, but I can't deny the heartbreak he caused. Let's call him 'Sam'. I'd had crushes and whatever before, but when I think about real first loves, I'd say Sam was mine. It had been amazing. We'd met in sixth form, he was friends with some pals that I'd grown up with so we hung out pretty much everyday. Besides his obvious charm and good looks, we liked all the same things, had the same kind of humour, both loved the theatre, and both performed in our local village drama societies. Eighteen year old me thought he was pretty perfect. It was a whirlwind year, but I guess the thing I think about most is how much he affected me, and we were never even official. Just an intense romance that took my breath away, but never really got anywhere. Even now, when I'm older and wiser, and more experienced in trying to figure out the male side of our species, I still think that there's no pain quite like the 'we were almost there' pain. It's so different to the typical relationship heartache. Like you go through this horrendous experience that makes you cry all the time, but you have nothing to show for it? It's weird.

I recently came across the message I would have sent to Sam in my old phone back in the day. It actually made me laugh, I'd forgotten I'd even written it! I didn't half go on... and on, and on! I never sent it, he left for uni soon after things were called off so it's not like a ranting message would have helped my case in the slightest! Hindsight is such a wonderful thing, just look where I am now without him! I'm happy, and getting on with this wild road we call life. I wish I could tell eighteen year old me that it was possible! So I figured I'd leave it here. Maybe some other eighteen year old somewhere is feeling empty without their first love.

"I'm sorry, but I'm taking this opportunity to rant at you. I've needed to do this for a long while. Read it or don't. Reply or don't. I don't care. Just let me do this, while I've still got the courage.

To say that these past few months have been hard for me is undoubtedly an understatement. I struggle to put into words how hurt I was, and how difficult I've found everything since, just getting up has proved trickier than normal. Now, I'd like to think that you were truthful when you told me how much you cared for me, that you "fell for me," left Gwen to be with me. I'd love to be naïve this one time, and believe that all that was true. Maybe elements of it really were. But I simply can't, even though you said all these wonderful things, admitted them to people like Jon and Jackson, claimed that you loved me as you held my hand and played with my hair. I can't understand how you could feel all that and yet move on from me at the unbelievable rate that you did. Do you see my problem?

People told it to me from the beginning, that something wasn't right, with you and our situation. How we were going to wait while you "sorted out some stuff." I heard them, but didn't listen, thinking that what they were saying was ridiculous—knowing you the way I did, I knew how you ticked, that you hated even the prospect of hurting people and not being able to help those in need, even when it was beyond your control. How could a person like that do any wrong? That sounds sarcastic and mean, I'm sorry.

Truth be told, I fell for you. You said that to me once, at your BBQ. Still, I fell for you too. I must have, or I wouldn't have felt so broken even when you weren't technically or officially mine. That's the word I use: Broken. Jon described me as that once, talking about how it killed him inside to see me everyday looking so "broken," and constantly on the verge of tears. I fell for you. You weren't the first, you won't be the last. But you were different from the others, for one; I didn't feel nearly this bad when the destined circumstance occurred, which plummeted the relationship. I told you I'd never been in a relationship, never had a boyfriend. I realise now how my definition differs to yours. I've been involved with other lads, so by your definition; no, you wouldn't have been my first. By my definition; none of them were worthy of receiving that title: my other half. You: I honestly well and truly thought you'd be perfect, that we'd be perfect. So did everyone that I ever spoke to about it in the running up. You were kind, loyal, thoughtful, hilarious, did pantomimes and drama; like me, played instruments; like me. You were never short of a chat, and had a smile to die for. A beautiful and amazing smile which made me melt. That simple and often overlooked detail is the first must-have on every girl's list. You would never hurt me. Never.

And yet, the funny thing is, you did. More than I've ever been hurt before, and it takes a lot to knock me for six. I've been hurt before, hurt psychologically, hurt physically, hurt by people that I once assumed would be in my life forever, people who I always said would be at my wedding, and how our kids would be just as close as we'd been at their ages. But nothing that they ever did was powerful enough to completely shatter and destroy my worth, but you succeeded with the utmost ease.

Congratulations.

You failed to keep your promise, failed to talk to me, tell me where I stood, where we were, and what the hell we were doing, like you promised you would. The only reason you did speak to me was because you kissed me. Because that kiss and the many that followed were—unlike the frequent flirting and innocent touches here and there—too noticeable of an action to shrug off and forget. Yet, the fact that you did kiss me makes me wonder whether all the feelings and jazz—whether it was all true, but there my naivety goes again. The fact that you kissed me, the way you kissed me, held me in your arms, played with my hair, assured me that if I wanted to stop or go slower I'd just have to say the word and you'd do it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone so considerate? Unbelievably. I know from experience.

Still, it's all these things that make it so hard to even consider the possibility that you simply thought I was an easy pull. Girls over-analyse everything. But can you blame us? We have to when we have to deal with so many lads that'll pick and drop us when they please, treating us like filth along the way.

... You played with my hair... I'm sorry but that's the one fine detail from this whole ordeal which I can't ever forget. I get that you may think that it's such a weird thing to remember from all this, but ironically, that's the one memory I have which proves to myself how much I cared about you, how much I loved you. Let me explain: It's a common fact that girls adore having their hair played with, for so many of my friends, the best thing you can do for them is just simply brush and fiddle with their hair. They find it so comforting and relaxing. But me, I don't. I have never understood the desire and comfort of people fiddling with my hair, ever since I was little it's annoyed me above all other things. And then you did it, just after you first kissed me, you draped your arms around my shoulders, and began sweeping my hair out of the collar of the coat I'd nicked off you. You carried on running you fingers through my hair, and for those few minutes; I can only describe them as pure magic. An unbelievable and indescribable feeling filled my insides. A warm brilliant feeling that made me feel as though I was loved. It completely swept me off my feet. I finally understood what all the other girls loved about it. It's that little detail which proves to me how much I loved you. That; not only did I let you do it, I enjoyed you playing with my hair. And to me that was one of the most eye-opening, and amazing parts of my entire time with you.

And yet, this is how much hurt you've caused me? If you had doubts, why didn't you just tell me? Instead of sending me on this self-destructing roller coaster, which, if I'm quite honest, I'm surprised I haven't come out of the other end hating every essence of you, and anything we ever did or had, The people around me are more furious and disgusted with you and the situation than I ever was. You said you were scared of hurting me, didn't it ever occur to you that not even trying, not giving us a chance, would hurt me a thousand times more than a natural break-up ever would? That's what it did. I can honestly say that you destroyed me.

I've sent myself to hell and back, trying to decipher what the hell I was doing wrong, or what was wrong with about me. It had to have been me that was wrong, because I would have called you mine in a heartbeat, and yet you wouldn't even try. This endless analysis kept me up at night, I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, would yell undeserving hell at my family and friends, everything; and I do mean everything, reminded me of you. Walking through town, certain songs, places, occasions, topics of conversation. All I'd have to do is type a single random and unrelated letter into Facebook and your name would appear. I think "insanity" is a better description here.

At the end of the day, I honestly don't think you ever understood, and still don't, just how much of an impact you had on me. Even now, months on, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't still think about you. You still have a part of me, a hold over me, I wait for the day that you finally let go; or rather, when I let go—because right now, there's still a small void in the pit of my stomach, and I still shift at the mention of your name. I admit: I'm not ready to let you go yet, probably won't until you're away at Uni and far away from me, then I can prove to myself, and be 100 percent sure that you are well and truly over me. Not that I can assume anything, but mind you.

I'm sorry if any part of this hurt you in any way, I truly honestly am. But I've needed to get this all out for a while now, before it drives me completely insane. I don't expect anything from you, not even as much as a reply or a backward glance. But I've gotta say, even after all this, I do miss you, even as just my friend; I miss you. When everything blew up between us, you said you wanted to remain friends, how likely either of us thought that was going to be is debatable: in those kisses we'd already broken the barriers between friends and being more than that. That detail was always stuck in my mind whenever I saw you after that.

I don't really know what else to say to you. I guess I just wanted to put down into words exactly what was going on in my head, and try and explain a portion of what you did. I'd like to say I hope we can come back and be friends, maybe in the future when we've (I've) put stuff in the past, but I know there's no point."

... [About a year later, I added an extra bit to draw a line in the sand]...

"I'm over you. Jesus Christ, I'm over you. I've realised so much about what really happened between us. I didn't deserve any of it, but it doesn't matter now because I'm over you. I don't regret a second of you, because I learnt so much about myself in the process, I know how I should be treated, and it isn't anything like what you were capable of. I bear no hard feelings, but I couldn't care less if I never heard your name again. Not in a malicious way, just you don't hold any part of my world now. You merely exist and I have to really try to even be vaguely aware of that these days.

So, Sam, thanks for the memories. Take care."