Is Love Really Lost if it Never Existed?

Let’s not pretend. I can’t do it anymore. I know I shouldn’t be saying this. Believe me, please.

You smiled at me, and I smiled at you. You laughed with me, but I cried by myself. You talked to me first, and I really wish that you hadn’t. From the first moment that I saw you, I knew that I had to stay away. Your dark eyes held a comfort that I hadn’t felt in a long time. There was a familiarity about them that lingered even after I left. And then you spoke—and we talked. I couldn't stop. I couldn't push you away.

I know that I should have.

But how could I? It all felt right—as though every moment of my past had led me to you. All the longing, pain, regret, and heartbreak became nothing. It all combined into the moment we met. It was like you were made to fit into the keyhole of my life. You inspired me to be truthful to myself. You made me question whether the life that I had was the one that was most worth living. I reconsidered what it means to be happy, what it means to love.

There was a time when I thought that love was simple, straightforward. To love one means to feel indifferent about all. But then I met you. I do love her, but I miss you. I was young when I first fell in love. It seemed to me at the time as though a delicate air surrounded me. I didn’t notice anyone else. Only she could capture my attention. My love story with her was beautiful—is beautiful. That doesn’t make our’s any less exceptional. It does make it seemingly impossible.

There is a comfort with her that I have known since my youth. Even as I grow, she stays with me. She is security within a chaotic world. She has been the only thing that I could rely on during the past nine years. And she does make me happy—although, not in the same way that you have made me happy. When I am with you, the chaos surrounding me no longer exists. It’s only us. But I guess that when we are together, we are the chaos.

In some world, we are meant to be with one another. You and I. Me and you. I believe that. But I’m afraid this just can’t be that world. If the last two years had gone the way they were meant to go, if all the pandemonium no longer existed, all signs would’ve pointed to you. If space and time had only been different…

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that this isn’t what you wanted. Being around one another isn’t good for either of us. I can’t give you what you want, and I am only torturing myself by pretending that I can. This thing—this magical, wonderful, beautiful thing—has existed. It has disguised itself as sneaking glances, dimpled conversation, and coincidental meetings. It took place between the two of us. I hope it was all in my head.

But maybe I don't.