So I got emotional, and like I said before, writing is my outlet. You don’t have to read this. Just a letter of apology to myself.
I had a dream last night. I… was on a bullet train. I was dressed in my favorite flannel, top, and jeans, and I had my maroon beanie on my head. I was sitting in the window seat, looking at the landscape pass by, and was listening to music. Then… then… I realized my head was on someone’s shoulder. I didn’t know who it was, but I didn’t remove my head. Then… a hand reaches above my head and absently ruffles my hair in a soothing, calm rhythm. I felt… safe. Loved. Happy. And then I suddenly know who it is. I look up… and his face is close to mine. That black, floppy hair, that circular face that I seemed to know all too well. Those incredibly long eyelashes that I was constantly teasing him about. That mischievous smile that brightened his whole face, making it seem lighter and younger. That worn, weathered NASA cap that gets him into all kinds of trouble. He had a smiley face on his right arm. I… sit up and he puts an arm around me. I… put my head against is chest, and we sit in silence, until the train pulls up.
We’re in… France. … Paris. Then… we’re walking, talking, laughing. We take pictures and eat ice cream and pose beside attractions. I felt… weightless. Happy. Free.
I’m writing this down so you remember. Remember the feeling of being loved and weightless. And remember that the night you dream about someone is the night you realize you like him. It’s also the night where you realize that it’s never meant to be. I’m writing this so you remember the hurt and pain and suffering that’s going to follow. I’m writing this so you can retain every scrap of love and happiness you felt, even if it’s imaginary.
I know the hardships and heartbreak you have faced, and I’m sorry I didn’t write down the ones before. It’s too late for them. They’re lost within the tornado of memory, and every time you try to remember them, apiece of shrapnel hits your heart and makes you turn away. All you could remember of him was the blinded foolishness you acted with. The insurmountable pain that he caused deep in the crevices of your bitter and jaded heart. I’m sorry I couldn’t save those memories. But I’ll try my best to save these. To remember to turn away before you get too caught up. It can’t hurt as much as he did, but he almost killed you. I’ll try not to let that happen.
That’s a promise.
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