The Chapter of You and I

We once walked hand in hand and talked about spending the rest of our lives together. I would lie my head on your shoulder, and you would hold me close, and we were content in our own little bubble, for we were in love and that was enough.

We hit our rough patches, you and I, and I remember the lowest ebb of your life, where uncertainty hit, and you were a man plunged in the depths of depression, and I could only watch and cry silent tears for I could not reach you during those times; I could only be there by your side and hope that you knew I was there for you.

It was one thing after another, and perhaps our relationship went too fast, too quickly, too much in the first year.

Perhaps I was concentrating too hard on making things work. Perhaps so hard that I realized my feelings were no longer what they were.

Used to. You told me you hated that word.

I do too.

I know I caused you pain, and a part of me can never forgive myself for causing you that pain, never forgive myself for the way I came to the decision. You seemed to take it rationally, and I was so relieved for that, so relieved that perhaps I didn’t realize that you were hurting a lot more than I could imagine, perhaps my insistence at friendship was premature.

We started having coffee, you and I, the same way I did with all friends. It was an attempt at normality, an attempt at salvaging a relationship that was no longer there, for each time we met it seemed we ended up only hurting each other more and more.

I still remember that day you walked me home, and you told me, “A hug. For old times’ sake.” And you hugged me as tears streamed down my face and I watched you walk away, seemingly tall and strong, so much more than the broken wreck that I was.

I had no idea you were walking away.

Was our rapport only there because of our relationship?

We worked well together in the first place, so well we fell in love. Why can’t we try a different kind of love?

I wonder if it is possible for two people, who once shared so much love for each other, to heal and be friends again. I wonder if we are irreconcilable, if our shared values and laughter and good times are worth nothing now we are apart.

It makes me sad to think that we shall never walk the same path, or you are not willing to try.

You said, “We’ll talk when I’m ready to talk.”

But you’re not even trying.

My door will always be open. Hate me if you need to, curse my name if you must, say what you will. I cannot undo my mistakes, but I can only try to make things better, the only way I know how.

I still want you in my life, but it seems you are not ready yet, and I cannot wait forever.

Perhaps it is easier for you to cut me out of your life entirely, to ignore the memories we had made together, to turn your back on our past.

Who am I to say?

This is my apology, my confession, and my goodbye.

I can only wish you all the best. I once told you you were strong, and you had so much potential, and I still believe in the man you could be. I can only pray for your happiness, and that you can forgive me for the hurt that I caused you. I can only thank you for the memories you have given me, for those times you have supported me, for the overwhelming love that I could not return.

Walk away if you must, but I cannot, and I thank you for the starring role you played in my life.

And let that be an end of that chapter of you and I.