A friend once asked me, “if you could write a book about someone who’s hurt you, what would your first question/sentence be?”

I paused. Thought about it, only to realize that I didn’t have anything else to ask except: “Why couldn’t it be me?” And a few moments later, I digressed, and opted not to answer it, because the truth is, I never really had the chance to be anything to you to begin with. And I had to sit through that uncomfortable truth until it didn’t hurt anymore.

There's something to be said about unspoken truths- the ones we never say for fear of judgment. But the truth is, we said it- not to the person it is intended to, but to ourselves, so that we may always be reminded of what was, and not what could have been. 

There was a point in time when I really wanted it to work, when I really wanted it to be you. Heck, I still want it to work, but my self-respect has to be bigger than my feelings.  I don't know what happened between then and now that what seemed to be the best part of my year, became the most painful mistake I've had to endure alone. 

Maybe it was my own expectations, or my lack of boundaries that I ended up breaking my own heart so you didn't have to. The heart catches up late to what the mind already knows, I wish I listened to my gut before I got gutted. 

I have always wondered what was lacking with me that I couldn't seem to make you look in the same direction as I was. Perhaps it was my open sexuality that made it impossible for us to connect beyond the shallow depths of triviality or the fact that you knew that you didn't know what you want, or that you just didn't want me at all, a reality I so long denied to myself. The confusion of what we were, made me forget what I was worth.

But amidst it all, I still wished you saw me, that would have been enough- to be seen. But just as I tried to give you more of what you don't already appreciate, I kept breaking myself into tiny little pieces that I have no idea how to put it all back together. I didnt think I was capable of being broken anymore than I already am.

It wasn't until recently that I realized where I stood in your life- not quite close enough to be a friend, but never enough to be something more. And that's on me for wanting more, but can you blame me? We had a connection void of commitment, a relationship without the intricacies of intimacy. One cant help but want more after being stuck in that cylical loop of “will we, wont we.”

Perhaps I was a better friend than a partner, I ask myself among the many questions that ruminate in my head every day since we met. But no matter how I try, the questions remain unanswered, even to this day, until I realized that it wasn't me that didn't want me, it was you. YOU DIDNT WANT ME. You didn't want me in the way I wanted you. And that realization alone singlehandedly crippled me. But at the risk of losing you, I stood still, even as I bled. 

And while I recognize my faults for thinking your efforts to keep this "relationship" alive was reciprocal, it wasn't until recently, when I stopped trying that it became crystal clear- I was the only one trying, fighting a battle I had already lost from the start. My pride just wouldn't let me accept defeat so early on.

Even as I pen this, there's still a slight tinge of hope that someday, somehow, when you're sure of what you want in life, that I would still be a part of that life you choose. But along with that hope is an excruciating reality that I have to live with. That I will never be good enough for you. And I ask myself, every day, for the last couple of months, if it was still worth it. Was I not worth it of such elusive affection? Was I never enough, was I being too much? The self-doubt was debilitating.

Blinded by the fantasy that came with the idea of you, I failed to see the crystal clear truth- you were never interested in me. But you liked me enough to keep me around. So I stayed, against my better judgment, even at the cost of my peace.

And as I look at you during our most recent trip together, your eyes no longer look for mine. They already belong to someone else. And that was the hardest pill to swallow. Harder than the loss of a loved one. Because, in a sea of people, I would still try to look for yours, but our eyes never meet again. 

There were days when I would regret meeting you, but then I would look back at some of the best times we've had and I wouldn't have been able to experience those without you in it. And while it pains me to walk away, I can't stay in a place where I am not wanted or valued or even just seen. It is less painful to think that someone wants to hurt you than to think someone fails to notice you at all. 

There was a time when I was afraid of ending things with you, when the heartbreak that comes with losing you is scary. It took a tremendous amount of courage to accept that it is ending, that it was done before it even started. I was at war with myself and my heart for as long as I could remember, but for the first time, knowing that I no longer have to prove my worth to you, gave me peace. When all you've ever known is war, peace can be scary sometimes. Terrifying even, but peace, was the cost I was willing to give for a fragment of the affection I was willing to get from you. But here I am now, raising my white flag.

You don't want me emotionally, you don't need me intimately, so why do you keep me?- is the question I kept asking myself every single day for months. And every day I try to find answers to my own questions, because as you said, you don't want to risk damaging what we have, so instead, I became collateral damage. I wished you risked enough, but you never did. I wish you cared enough to cause me pain- at least then I would have known you cared at all, rather than do nothing, which only proved that I meant nothing to you. Was it really that difficult? Shakespeare had it right when he said, "my tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart, in its silence, will break." And because I didn't say anything, mine did, multiple times.

And while you will never hear of my unspoken truth in the way I intend you to, I hope to hear of yours one day. We all have things we never tell anyone, not even the most important people in our lives. I will never send this letter to you but I still hope that someday, somewhere, sometime, I will hear of yours. and if I never do, then at least I know where I stand, not that I don't already. 

But here's my truth I am no longer afraid to say: I have always liked you, I dare say, at one point, I may have even loved you, even on the days you didn't deserve it. Even when my efforts were mostly in vain, I will always have a fondness for you. I wished many days and many times that you would feel the same way, but that's another truth I have to live with: you never did and you never will. So I have to start letting you go, so I may learn to forgive myself for everything I did and didn't do, and for not telling you how I felt, and for not asking for what I deserved because losing you then was more painful than losing myself. I just didn't realize I was going to lose two for the price of one, and on my own accord. 

I won't forget everything when it felt right, because we were good when it was good. And I will always remember how we were before it all changed. I can only hope that you do the same. I hope that one day- you’ll think of me fondly too, or at least our memories together would leave a smile on your face, the same way it did to mine.

Only time will tell if I forget about you- but I hope I never do. You will always be a reminder of what I was capable of, even when nothing was being asked of me. And if we cross paths again in this lifetime, I wish to see your eyes again- the one that smiles this time, even if I know I'm no longer the reason it does. Maybe one day, we can be friends without the complications that it brings. 

At the end of it all, I still want to see you win. In life, in love, and the demons you never tell anyone about.

And as I close your chapter in my book, you have become my most beautiful "almost" memory. But as beautiful as it is, an almost, is never enough.

Be well, MD. You will always be my favorite lululemon boy.