Dear man whose name still forms a part of my passwords,
When I first met you, I was young and clumsy, imperfect, and insecure. To me, you were glorious and beautiful — with eyes so brown that I could drown in them and lose myself forever.
You were tall, had an endearing laugh — nervous at times, cocky and self-assured at others. You had a habit of running your fingers through your hair when you were deep in thought.
You liked Harry Potter and Artemis Fowl. Your enthusiasm made me love Eragon. You taught me that the songs of Backstreet Boys and MLTR were wonderful, and playing Hangman was one of the most creative ways to pass time.
You cracked jokes that made me laugh at random moments when I recalled them and said sweet things for which I blushed even hours later — alone in my bedroom at night.
You called me your best friend. You said I was someone you could trust and count on.
I didn’t understand then why I had let you go.
To be honest, I still don’t.
Maybe that day when I asked you never to speak to me again in front of a watching crowd of fellow classmates was one of the days I would live to regret. Maybe those tears of remorse I had cried that night would stay with me all my life.
We had fought over some silly reason that I don’t even remember. But to my thirteen-year-old self, it was something worth giving up the best person in my life for.
You did try to make amends — you waited for hours outside my classroom so we could talk it out and clarify things. You changed buses to be in mine so we could get a chance to have a conversation. But I was the one who surrounded myself with friends so you could never find me alone. I was the one who gave you such a cold look each time our eyes met, that my contempt must have turned your love to cold ice.
What an idiot I was that I didn’t realize. I got to hold on to my ego, but I didn’t get to hold on to my love.
I am sure you won’t read this, for you are somewhere far away, amid foreign lands, living a life so different from mine. I don’t know if we could have carved out our own forever, but I did want to try and see how far our story could have gone on.
I am not sure of so many aspects, but one thing that stands true even today is this: whatever we had, it was love. Maybe the definition was different then, but for whatever my young heart could hold, you were everything.
And I’ll always remember you with a fondness none other can match.
I only hope you’ll remember me too.
That girl who was too afraid to take a leap of faith and give all of herself to you.