I never gave myself fully to you; I know that hurt, and I know the feeling. I never really tried to tell you how I felt about things when you flirted with someone else; I didn’t feel like it was my place. If I didn’t give you myself wholly, who am I to tell you that it bothered me? I wasn’t ready, and somewhere, I’m still trying to “fix” myself. They broke me – more than I care to admit. You’ll disagree, but I don’t think you’re ready either. You’re immature, and that’s fine; we’re young and stupid, but we’re growing. But I know I couldn’t give myself to you, so as much as it would hurt me to let you go and have you leave, you needed to move on. For you, and no one else. But now that you’ve found another one, it fucking hurts. Then again, who am I to feel hurt?
You left a bigger imprint on my life than I’d care to admit. From the bigger things to the little, almost imperceptible, everywhere I go I see you. Every time I’m making the bed, I miss having you by my side to tell me how to properly do it. When I’m about to make an extravagant (and very unnecessary) purchase, I look to see you roll your eyes but in vain. I miss your incessant (but adorable) asks for bone-crushing and breath-stealing hugs; even when I claimed I didn’t want one, you’d always call my bluff. I miss your high-pitched squeals and your unique zeal; Being able to talk about anything and everything (as long as it didn’t include someone else who thought I was cute) was our everyday. You’re gone now, and things are going to change. I knew that when we last said goodbye, but somewhere, I was in denial.
Truth be told, I always thought we’d end up together. I’d do some growing up, you would too, and one day, we’d be Jai and Aditi. As much shit as I’ve given you for living like you were in a Bollywood movie, I hold those lofty and (maybe) unrealistic notions for romance. But you and I, we’ve hurt each other – I’ve lied, I’ve yelled, I’ve snubbed, and I’ve withheld myself from you for the longest time. Sometimes, I feel like when you said I wasn’t a very likeable person, you were onto something. It takes me back to when I used to cry as a 5-year-old for being a “selfish, short-tempered, bad boy.” It hurt that you thought so little of me. That amongst many reasons is why right now, we can’t (and shouldn’t) be together. They’re making you happy though, and to me, truly, seeing you smile your smile is all that matters.
Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to give you the love you deserve. Until then, like Frank said, I’ll sleep between y’all, it’s nothing. But I’ve got some promises to keep. Most of all, I owe it to that little boy that thought he deserved nothing but the worst. I owe it to him to show him that the world is full of warmth, happiness, and love. I owe it to myself to prove him wrong. How can I expect someone else to enjoy my company if I don’t enjoy it myself? How can I expect someone else to love me when I don’t love myself? Maybe, we’ll fall in love again, and it’ll last that time. But for now, I’m going to try and fall in love with myself. One day at a time, one step at a time.
Melan-jolly 