I’ve loved you since I was fourteen
and at that point I knew that you wouldn’t think of me that way, after all you were three years my senior. But last time I saw you, it felt like I had a chance, like maybe I had reached a point where I could garner some interest. Even in spite of the fact that you were someone else’s, I thought that something could happen between us.
But now, now that you’re moving in with her, it feels like the dead end of a road which was, until now, windy, which gave me hope that at around each bend, I could finally make you mine. It feels like a betrayal, even if you never promised me anything. In the end, I suppose it’s a betrayal of my own over-active imagination, of my own self-indulgence and vanity. Nonetheless, I can’t shake this dull pain that lingers in my gut, and I fear, what I was looking forward to mere hours ago. I fear the day, fast approaching, where I have to see you in person, and know that the end of the road has been reached, and that the destination that I dreamed of will never meet my eyes.
Please forgive my brief moment of teenagery-ness and cliche writing, dear followers.
I feel I am grieving over everything that I have not lost.
I will grow older and lose my youth one day, my hair in grey patches, my smooth, unwrinkled skin, my eyes, awake and lively - I will lose it all to the simple fact that I continue to be alive.
I will find friends and lose them in the middle of winter, in the beginning of summer, i will lose them to new jobs, new lovers, far away states, to coffins, and fires, to the simple fact that they continue to be alive and I continue to be alive and you cannot throw a lasso around a person and make them stay.
I am grieving you, for you are always leaving - your absence continues to plague the way I breathe because I cannot breathe next to you.
I lose myself in maps, tracing the highways to where you are, folding its pages over and over and over again until your home and my home are next door neighbors and I can walk to your house just to hear your voice.
I am grieving over the death of love. I am grieving over your death and my death. I am grieving over the lack of everything we’ve wished for. I am grieving over the memories we cannot share. I hope I do not have to grieve forever.”
Who loves my Grad/Prom stuff as much as I do?