There were always words held underneath our tongues, words restrained by insecurities we both had. Fear..mostly. Fear that if we ever crossed that line, that the existing relationship we held so tightly to would fall to shambles. That they would judge, because we never fit the mold, we weren’t what they were expecting. I never told you that I was never afraid to cross that line, because you always gave me reasons to second guess myself, that I would never be good enough, that I was something to be ashamed about–that I was never at par to your usual type. I’ll still never know how you really felt about us until you finally tell me. But I know you’re trying to let me know.
By remembering moments locked in time that we only know about, shining lights on pieces of our lives that were so small, but because you still cherish them, I know that they were never small at all. You remember my quirks–the ones that easily go unnoticed.
You took me for granted.
I spent years proving to myself that I was wanted. Spent so much time looking for instant gratification in the limelight. I settled for the first person who truly realized it, the first person who wasn’t ashamed in wanting to be happy with me. There was always a sense of relief that it wasn’t you.
And now that you’re stumbling back into my life, with hopes that I am getting what I deserve with hopes that I’m doing well taken care of. And I know you’re saying all this with the deepest sincerity..because there’s a part of you that knows that is should’ve been you.
I impacted your life.. I still resonate in your memories. So much, that you can’t leave them alone.
I was never just nothing. I was definitely something & I won’t let you tell me otherwise again.
And this my friend defines. Regret.