It’s really hard to have old stuff that you have given me over the years. It’s really hard to have all the letters and poems and cards. When I read what you said, it is so full of love. So full of plans of the future. So generous and caring. What am I supposed to do with all of these old writings? They are so meaningful. I can’t throw them away. Throwing them away would just be like throwing a piece of my heart and soul away. But I can’t keep them the way I have them now, on my bulletin board or my desk. Keeping them there puts them in plain sight and I have to see them and deal with the pain of knowing that things changed so drastically. That’s why this is so hard to deal with. I can’t actually believe we aren’t together anymore because we were so deeply in love when we were.
Drew,
how did you, just a year ago, write “I will be there in the future to carry you through any fear. Just lean on me for I will always be near.” Or give me a locket with “the only one” engraved into it for Christmas. Or tell me that we are going to keep Penny in our house when we get our own house together at OU after sophomore year. Or tell me you want to get married. Or give me a “coupon good for infinity hugs and kisses.” Or write that you “love me sooooooo much” in the birthday card that you gave me just over a month ago. All of these things are so strange to me. How can they be? Seriously. I don’t understand. And on top of that, how can any of them have changed?
I have been the same girl for a long time. I am the same girl from Biology sophomore year that you flirted with. I am the same girl you have gone to six high school dances with. I am the same girl whose hands you had to warm after falling in the snow face first on our first date. I am the same girl you promised you would take to Maine when we turned 18. I am the same girl who slept over your house for three or four nights in a row when your mom was working nights and your dad was out of the house to make sure you had dinner to eat and a ride to school in the morning. I am the same girl who scratched your back and stroked your head before bed every night so you could rest more easily. I am the same girl, Drew.
But you are not the same boy who used to be so loving. You are not the same boy who used to think it was bad when I swore. You are not the same boy who vowed to never drink or do drugs as those things were apparently for “losers.” You are obviously not the same boy who wrote me these poems and cards and letters. You are not the same boy who used to actually try in school and get your school work done. You are not the same boy who said the song describing our love for each other is Wilco’s “On and On and On.” You are not the same boy who took me to my first Black Keys concert. You are not the same boy who warmed my hands on our first date. You are not the same boy who texted me when we were apart just to say hello. You are not the same boy who called me at night and wanted to talk for hours. You are not the same boy who used to pick me flowers. You are not the same boy that you were when you bought Penny and actually took care of her. You are not the same boy who told me you loved me first.
Who the fuck are you?!
