Dear Boy i Love{d}

Dear Boy i Love{d},


i want to email you so bad, but instead i’m writing here on this blog.  i miss your friendship.  i miss sharing my heart with you through the computer screen.  Honestly, i think i miss the safety and ease of our “non” relationship.  i know you never thought of me.  i was just some “pen pal” who shared thoughts on Jesus and life.  We never were anything at all or ever.  It was safe, but i was real.  i showed you my best and worst parts, and every once in a great while you’d write back something of meaning, and i, being me, would make it into something it was not and grab hold of hope so tightly. But i always knew i was nothing/no one to you.  Sure i hoped for more, even conjured thoughts of what it would be like if only you loved me back, but you didn’t…you don’t.  In the midst of it, i sure made it messy, and i won’t do that anymore.  You know i am not proud of the messy moments and words sent, but i wouldn’t take them back.  i wouldn’t take a moment back.  i grew up and became better.  i’ve learned about unsaid expectations and desires and hope deferred and a hell of a lot about who i am in Christ and who i am not.  i would not take any of that back.  i am certain that life is so different now for both of us.  i haven’t heard from you since i don’t know when, but that doesn’t mean i don’t think of and pray for you every single day, because i do.  The way you’re in my head and heart is literally breaking me.  Yet i know you are out there somewhere happy, in love, and enjoying the life you live; which is exactly why i am writing here and fighting the urge to email you and make a fool of myself any further.  As much as i want to email you to say happy veterans day or happy birthday or to share my thoughts on Jesus and life, i have no right to do so.  So i find myself listening to some old soul music and reminding myself that no matter what i convinced myself of and what i wanted it to be, you simply are not the one.  You have chosen another path and i can’t write to you anymore.  And so as on so many days i walk through the emotions just hoping for some semblance of closure, desperately wanting to let go, hoping to move forward and open my heart to possibility and quit comparing, hoping to wake up and never think of you again.  i have no idea why i can’t.  i’ve prayed and prayed and prayed and here i am still thinking of you.  Even though my feelings weren’t shared, somehow i still miss your friendship and the joy i felt in writing to you and more in getting a response and knowing my words meant something to you.  i go back and read some of those letters and they always remind me of the journey i’ve been on and where i’ve come from, in seeking the heart of Christ.  So i really miss writing my thoughts about Jesus to you.  i even more miss getting to know the little you’d sometimes share.  i guess the reality is that i wanted to share life with you. i liked our commonalities and i liked our differences.  i find an absence in my heart not being your friend.  It wasn’t just i wanted you, it is that i want the best for you.  You have your best, so i write here, but i miss you.  At the end of the day what i logically know and what my heart feels so deeply are written in two different books in two different genres.  And i really hate that.  i so desperately want to close the book on my heart and never ever pick it up again, because it’s been over and done or maybe it never was.  Maybe you were just a nice guy amusing me.  At any rate, i just keep coming back to the book of my heart, like a dog returning to it’s vomit.  It hurts like hell everyday and every page. i wish i’d never met you, i wish i’d never written you.  i wish you’d never made me feel.  None of that is possible, so i will write like this until i can let go, quit thinking of you, move on to the possibility of meeting some guy who will put the effort into knowing and caring for me that i put into knowing and caring for him.  And maybe then i won’t think of you, in the same way you don’t think of me. And maybe it will all make sense then.  As you were.

Vaya con Dios,

A

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