God Damn It.
About eight years ago I was in love with a boy. For many, many reasons, we weren’t destined to be together for the rest of our lives. But for one month, it was beautiful and pure and everything was wonderful and I was in love. Most sincerely and wholeheartedly in love.
And it fell apart. Like things do.
It took me… gosh… four years to get over him. Four years of thinking about him when I didn’t want to think about him. When my heart ached and I was sick of having an aching heart. I just wanted to be over him. I wanted not to care anymore. Eventually my wish came true.
We’ve communicated some in the years that have passed. Nothing too heavy. I know where he’s living and which girl he’s with and what he’s doing for money.
He instant messaged me at 3am, and I was up, so we started talking. And it seems he was in a sentimental mood. And he told me he loves me and misses me which, ok, that’s a nice thing to hear. An old friend misses me!
But then: God Damn It.
He told me that back then, all those years ago, when I loved him so purely, he loved me too. He was young, he was stupid, he didn’t know what he was doing, but he was in love with me.
Oh, and he’s sorry for hurting me.
God damn it.