The last article I wrote was about someone that was and is special to me. He will always have a place in my heart like our many firsts in our memories. He was like riding a bike for the first time or the feeling of a sun beaming on my as I sat on the rocks in Central Park. But, like the April weather in Boston, he came and went. Well, he came and left again this time.
I could never truly understand what moving on meant. Moving on for me always meant finding someone new or falling for someone you. It was always about the next exciting individual or event to conquer. I also found a new distraction to obsess over, and it was always BOYS. However, for once in my life, moving on has been a lot harder. I begin to wonder why. Is it because what I had with this boy was different or am I truly still stuck on the “what ifs”?
We have all been there. Through the “what if I had said it differently?” or “what if I had done this differently?”. My “what if” will always be “what if I wasn’t where I am?”. It took me nearly nine months to be close to fully moved on from Ben. To the point, where he probably crossed my mind once a week. But Ben came. Yes, he came to NYC and opened the wound that I had taken what seems to be a decade to stitch back together. Just one look, and every vein in my body seemed to melt with my muscles. So what did I do to alleviate this weird catastrophic feeling? Well, what do most college students do? They drug it away. With enough alcohol and smoking, all my problems would go away. Key word: would.
After Ben left, I did not cry. For the weirdest reason, a reason I can not understand, I did not shed a single tear. For the three days he was here, I drunkenly cried most nights. I sat on stoops talking to a fellow disheartened stranger and cried with her. I have hooked up with the same guy I should not, twice. I have sent late night text to a guy, who thought I wanted more from him. I have done everything in the book of What You Should Not Do When You’re Drunk. So, why did I not cry? Have I gone tired of feeling the sadness of constant thinking “what ifs”. Yet, how come I am still here feeling like I lost something I can never have all over again. There are so many questions that surrounds my mind every second. Ben. Steve. Ben. Steve. MOSTLY Ben.
1. Do you miss me or think of me as often as I do?
2. Have you fully moved on?
3. Would you give us another chance if we were in the same city, or did I just ruin it?
4. Would you forgive me if you knew why I did what I did in the past 9 months to get over you?
5. Would you let yourself live a little?
6. Most importantly, why couldn’t you just let me live in the fairytale for another day before you went breaking my heart?
I remember the day he dropped me off at the airport, like it was yesterday… except more sober than I actually was. Ironically, this time, it was me who dropped you off. I know I shouldn’t ask him the first question, as much as I want to. Yet, it itches on my skin like my eczema. So here I am again, suffering through this sadness, wanting to numb my feeling and truth to be told, dying to see you. But as Sean said, I can do better. I can be better than I am. I can be stronger than I am. And, I will. But Sean, what about you? Why do you keep being so reckless and thinking with your second head? Why do you make me sound so worthy, yet treat me like any other damaged goods, just available for you?
Do I have feelings for you? I pray to God I do not. Sean, you’re the worst of them all. You’re my friend, which means I actually do see some good in you. Therefore, I know you’re not the monster that every girl on campus paint you to be. Yet, time after time, sex after sex, and one drink after another, you remind me why it is that every girl know you for your reputation and not that tender soul of yours. You’re a werewolf or some sort of shapeshifter. At day you’re a diligent worker and a comical friend, by night you’re a relentless hunter seeking for the nearest fish to bite out of. One of those fishes just so happen to be me since I am your friend. I am just there for you to fuck when you’re horny and couldn’t bring anyone else back with. An easy fuck as most would call it. So do I have feelings for you? I would say “no”. We are far to similar. Incapable of commitment, dipping our souls in the fire pit and dragging innocent hearts through the trenches as we mend our own. Are we just two damaged goods or mismatched puzzle pieces temporarily filling each other’s sides? I would say so.
Oh look, I have gone o a tangent, as usual. Back to my feelings.. ah yes, Ben! Well, there really isn’t much to say to it anymore. Maybe because its 4 A.M. or may because I am over feeling like crap. Either way, I am over it for today/night. So my readers, goodnight. This story will be continued tomorrow with more details.