Confessions to those I’ve loved and to those I didn’t quite.

While I will not say whether this is all true or made up, I do want to clarify that the *emotion* was not fabricated, for if it were, I certainly would not have been so cheesy and full of clichés. Thirteen “you”s are not necessarily thirteen *different* “you”s, but this deserved thirteen separate “confessions,” if not more.

Confessions to those I’ve loved and to those I didn’t quite.

1. Because we were a secret for so long, I had a really hard time being with you in public once we could actually be seen. To me, we only existed during the midnight walks, the phone calls that lasted until three in the morning, the rides to nowhere in your shitty old car, and the countless hours spent hidden in my covers.

2. Even though I have no intention of you and me ever being an us again, I sill get a bit of a thrill knowing I could have you if I wanted. I feel as if I have some sort of special claim on you or some permanent place in your heart, and even though it’s selfish, I like to remind myself of this every once in a while.

3. You made me do things I never thought I would do, be someone I never thought I would be, and what’s even worse is that I thoroughly enjoyed it and only experienced inklings of guilt. And because of that, if some day we could possibly be together, though the chance is slim, I would turn the opportunity down; I let you behave badly with me despite having her, but I would never be with someone whom I thought would do that to me.

4. I worshiped you once, was completely infatuated with you and the idea of getting your attention, but now I find you absolutely pathetic. At one time any interaction with you made me delightfully nervous, and when you placed your hand under my chin and pulled my face towards yours, I couldn’t imagine anything ever comparing. Now, just the idea of you and your distorted perception of your self-worth disgusts me. But I almost pity you, because you’ll surely end up alone since no one ever even comes close to being good enough for you.

5. The first time you kissed me was brilliant, to be sure, but the best moment for me was the long hug goodbye that night, when our bodies couldn’t have been pressed more closely together and my heartbeat was speeding out of control. I felt so emotionally connected to you, and I didn’t think that was possible for me. I still feel a little sad wondering how things would’ve been had they worked out and remembering how the contact simply ceased and everything dissolved with no real closure.

6. You were the first person for whom I ever went out on a limb, who fascinated me so completely in such a short amount of time that I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. I had such high hopes; nothing had ever been so long-lasting but so rarely occurring until you, so I thought it might be real. But you disappointed me. You didn’t give me just enough to tease me and make me desire you all the more; you just didn’t give me enough, period.

7. I had fun with you and all my feelings were legitimate, but I never had any intentions of it turning into anything serious. You had a reputation, and I’m pretty sure you only had one goal. So I let you believe that, just maybe, you would get what you wanted in time and once things progressed. But you were never someone I could actually see myself with long-term. It’s okay that you were trying to use me; I was pretty much using you, too.

8. I am absolutely terrified by the idea that my feelings for you will never go away, but it also scares me to think that I could someday forget about you. I don’t know how or why I still care about you so deeply after all this time. I don’t know if I project my ideals onto you and my perception of you is really just a skewed version of reality. But it kills me that nothing has ever happened between us, nothing that truly counts by normal standards at least, and I want nothing more than for you to come home and show me that you still want me, too. I want us to finally have our moment.

9. You broke my heart so quickly simply in trying so hard not to hurt me. All your concerns and advice, all your baggage that you didn’t want to subject me to, just made you even more perfect and one hundred percent more desirable to me. Despite all the mixed signals and confusion, the envy and the wish that you wanted to be with me, too, what made me the saddest, what made me actually want to cry, was the thought of you going back to her and letting her treat you so poorly. You don’t deserve that at all, and she doesn’t deserve you.

10. On one hand, I desperately wish I could see you again, but on the other, I know we left things off on the perfect note, in the loveliest way, and I don’t want to risk souring what is so fantastically dreamlike and seems to be once-in-a-lifetime. You were stimulating and amusing, gentle yet pressing. You were the epitome of everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy and exactly how a guy should be, and you reminded me not to settle, to keep searching for someone who both deserves me and is deserved by me.

11. It was meaningless and half-remembered. No, it was even less than that; I only have glimpses of it in my memory, and I wish it would have never happened. It’s truly not your fault that I resent you as much as I do, that I feel needlessly and unreasonably angry whenever you’re around, that the slightest idiosyncrasies of yours make me sick. It wasn’t really anything you did that made my early feelings toward you completely flip. I’m sorry that I detest you now, for no real good reason; I’m just glad you’re completely unaware of it.

12. I never knew I had unresolved feelings for you until you moved on for good. Knowing that and seeing you two together made me miserable. Being around you guys was practically unbearable, but it would’ve been worse not being around you at all. So I suffered through it, even though all I wanted to do was sit alone and cry about it, cry over you. I’ve never had the need to be particularly convincing or persuasive before, but I really wish that, somehow, I would’ve been able to change your mind.

13. I still get touchy when your name comes up, and I feel flustered whenever I happen to see you somewhere. I think I still hate you sometimes, but other times, I think I might still like you. I sometimes miss you, as strange as that is. And I wish I could’ve been different, could’ve been better. You were the first person to make me trust, to make me feel comfortable with another, to make me open up. You were the closest I ever got to love.

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4 responses to “Confessions to those I’ve loved and to those I didn’t quite.

  1. Wow rachel. Just wow. I felt like a voyeur reading yet the last thing I wanted to do was stop. You described so succinctly that I felt I was reading what I’d once wrote. Because I almost could feel it so that connection had to be mine. Thank you for sharing yourself. At times I came close to letting my mind venture it’s guess and I may have been correct. But I already felt like an intruder in your heart so I didn’t want to betray even further by letting myself believe I could know who was this guest in your memory. So I pushed back those thoughts and just appreciated the open glimpse into the gallery. Thank you for that visit. You know how certain things make you a better person by having read, seen, heard, enjoyed them? I’m not claiming your writing did that much for me without first allowing myself the time to ponder such a big award. But I do know I now view you in a different light, liking this deeper girl i can now see. I’ve always seen someone special in that light but I’m happy to add even more luminance to it now. Thank you for not keeping this private.

    • Please forgive, my page wasn’t showing your intro and missed this was written about more than one person. Now I feel foolish. I still mean what I said of course but disregard those aspects of my initial response if you will :)

      • Thank you for all the praise and compliments! What I meant by my intro is that it is not necessarily one person but it’s not necessarily more than one person, and it certainly isn’t thirteen people. I kind of wanted to make vague whom I wrote it about, whether that be one person or a handful of people, because the actual post itself – the emotions and such – is quite specific. I wanted it to be something people could relate to.

        Which aspects of your initial response should I disregard? I’m not quite seeing which parts no longer apply, so there’s certainly no need to feel foolish. :)

  2. What i meant is a sort of apology for my assumption of it having been just one individual. The apology is deserved for my lack of taking the time to read the intro closely. You thought enough of your points to include them your intro. And why put forth such effort if it wasn’t important? Yet I failed to give it importance, instead making an assumption as I traveled thru your work that it was one very important person that had many facets and affected you in serious ways. Now I did read your reply so you not allowing whether it be single or multiple, reminds me to not place a label. When in my first reply, id noted that inside i thought i might know who it could be but didnt want to cheapen it with my guess so i pushed the guess away to get all i could from your engrossing writing. Either way I enjoyed the crap outta it and you gained some points in my opinion library.
    I’d just wanted to clear that up because I wouldn’t like you to feel as if it was a huge compliment(it was) but maybe feel as if it didn’t hold the same weight after my admittal of missing some important details.
    Thank you again. When I find more time I hope to read more, making my mind work

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