You were a piece of something special in a lumberjack shirt hiding the most lust worthy bust I had ever seen, and I threw it away because I’m really quite the idiot.
I got scared. That’s the part I told you. It’s not like it was a lie, it was the truth. Someone barked and my head couldn’t keep focus. The gun shot threw me off, which is stupid because things like that never throw me off.
What really did us in was me being unsure. This may be the undercurrent in every fucked over relationship I’ve ever had. I never know if I want to deal with another person all the time, every time. If I commit to one person and I’m stuck with them will it all turn out the same anyway.
And I know where this is coming from. Even if I never could put my finger on it before, you were the best example of it. That relationship to end all relationships fucked me up. I hate being the poster boy for commitment issues because it always seemed like bullshit to me, but here I am. I’ve got commitment issues because when I was fully committed I felt like I was physically committed. You suffered for that. All of you did.
Now I only have our words and their bittersweet smiles. You were always so fucking good to me and even when it was unequivocally one sided I never knew whether you were for me or against me because of my own bullshit. You were always with me though. Always on my side, no matter what.
But it’s been two years now since we last talked. I don’t know where you are or how to get a hold of you. I guess you’re as good as gone. I’ll hope not but it’s not promising. I’d at least hope to get to say thank you. A chance to rectify a goodbye that shouldn’t have been.
A Hopeless Romantic, Stirred 