We were so alike, that’s why it was that incredibly easy to see a future with you in less than 24 hours. We both move fast, too fast emotionally, that’s part of the reason we got along so well. We’re both too emotional and romantic and dream lofty dreams. You were logical where I failed, though, I didn’t expect you to be, but you were.
More than once have I seriously considered contacting you and telling you that I want to try again, because we made sense, perfectly good sense, we were so alike. But I suppose I know we’d both drive each other entirely insane in no time at all. We are too alike. I need to remember that. And the root of my contact would be a want of a reason to want to go somewhere. I think I know where I want to go if I leave Texas, but I suppose it would be nice if I went somewhere where I knew someone was waiting for me.
But the point of this little note that I swear I’ll never send, is to say that I know I put myself too high up. I like to think I’m down to earth and I truthfully do try to see the best in everyone without even realizing I’m trying, but apparently some part of me thinks so highly of itself that it holds a potential suitor to higher than fair standards. I like to think that because I’m young and I can ‘afford’ to be picky that this justifies how judgemental I can be. This is currently the only aspect of my personality that I refuse to tolerate the existence of.
I didn’t understand why you contacted me a few months ago just to tell me how well you were doing. And honestly I wish I hadn’t burned that piece of paper with your phone number on it, I want to know you’re still doing alright. I want to know if your father is still driving you up the wall and if you still feel isolated from the rest of the world.
Sometimes when I think about you I just see a wonderful human being with a sensible mind, warm smile, and a fascinatingly conflicted soul. But then there are other times, when I remember why I left us behind, because you never cared for literature or compromise or college. All of the things you advertised, that you were an intense, philosophical, driven, well-read human being, turned out to be lies except for when you were writing.
I don’t regret breaking it off, but I do regret meeting you. Because you did care about me, I just couldn’t stay because the whole thing was a train wreck waiting to happen, and I could see the end of the tunnel the day we began. You were so incredibly and fantastically charming that I would forget for a day or two what I truly felt, no one can withstand that amount of admiration without forgetting who they are for a moment. You fall so quickly for anyone, though, so I knew as I read your monologue on the girl you met three days after I broke it off, you would be just fine, and I wasn’t the first young lady you called ‘brilliant’, ‘stunning’ and ‘breathtaking’.
I suddenly felt so ordinary that I started to hate you a little bit. And writing all of this now, I do still want to say that I’m sorry for not being the person you needed me to be. Like me, you have so much love to give, and you were just seeking out someone to give it to, it just never mattered who.
I suppose that’s a key part where we’re different. I hesitate. That hesitation was perhaps the voice in the back of my mind that kept telling me to make a run for it when you were moving us along so fast. You jumped right into forever. I was being cautious while trying to be who you wanted me to be, because I liked knowing you were happy.
I don’t know why I find myself here at one in the morning writing to you, I suppose I just wish that I had known what I know now. It was never about me deserving better than you, it was about both of us deserving different.