A few words make a big impact.
Dear JV,
After re-reading our latest email exchange, I have been on a trip down memory lane. I keep these memories safe, as they are all I have of us now, almost fourteen years later. Sometimes, I get stuck in my memory bubble whenever we communicate. And sometimes, I can feel like a prisoner of it. A few years ago, it lasted longer than I care to admit. We exchanged emails frequently to catch each other up on our lives; all I could recall were our best times. Every new email brought me back to memories that made me doubt my decisions years ago.
Only a few weeks ago, I was thinking about the email I would receive from you on my birthday later this month. You never fail to wish me a happy birthday, but I had contemplated not responding this year. What benefit am I gaining from engaging in these repetitive conversations that suddenly come to an end? You may not realize it, but it’s painful for me. I don’t know what would hurt more, learning it’s also painful for you or not at all anymore.
Last week, when I saw your name in my inbox, my heart fluttered. It was only a few words and a silly article about my adolescent band crush. It feels good to know that even after everything I put you through, thoughts of me still cross your mind. It’s been about six months since the last email chain. I sent you a Happy Birthday, and we went back and forth for a few days. The communication ended abruptly when you stopped answering. I refreshed my inbox too frequently, wishing for even a few words. I couldn’t avoid answering last week, though. Although it took a few days, I couldn’t stop thinking of picking up my phone to reply, knowing I’d be impatiently waiting for a follow-up I did not deserve.
Remembering the good and the bad.
I’ve read that after a relationship ends, over time, people tend to remember the good things more than the bad things that led to the end of the relationship. However, in my case, I remember almost everything. I often wonder if you recall that January night when we both knew our relationship was nearing the end.
It was late, a few nights after the New Year, and I was at home pretending to be asleep. You had left to visit your parents, as you did more often, most likely to get some space from me. We fell apart quickly and didn’t know how to fix what was broken between us. Most likely because I had no idea what my problem was. You arrived home late from the airport, pressed your lips to my hair, and asked if I wanted you to sleep in another room. I agreed, you walked out, and I cried.
I despised that night; it’s the memory bubble I try to avoid.
Oh, if only I could go back to that January night and ask you to stay, lay by my side, hold me, and let me cry with my head on your chest, but I was so bad at communication. I cried so much while you stayed away from me. I would let the tears fall while I curled up on the bottom step of our staircase. Once, I sat on the kitchen floor and cried so long it hurt to breathe. I knew that weekends were for crying alone because you would leave for your sister’s house right after work on Fridays and stay through Monday mornings. You avoided me to avoid getting hurt.
Lately, though, I have been thinking of our first kiss. It was explosive. It was full of urgency and tenderness together. And once we started kissing, we couldn’t stop. My mouth would hurt for weeks from kissing so intently for so long. Today, as I recalled how all those kisses made me feel, I was smiling. I am so grateful for these memories and enjoy getting stuck in this memory bubble.
We felt so much in such a short amount of time. Our love was raw and real; I wish I hadn’t taken it for granted. Our history runs deep, and for a while, it was us against the world before I went and let it all go. I feel like I owe you a lifetime of apologies. If only I could have communicated back then how I have learned now. I’m always wishing you a lifetime of happiness.