To the Fuckboy in all of us,
I TOLD you I was fragile, so I don’t know why I have to write this letter to explain to you that you messed with my head and we haven’t even kissed, let alone spend a night in bed. How could I not see? I told you I NEEDED you to be patient with me.
You said, “noted,” genuinely or so I thought and instantly my heart was devoted to you, but all for not. So magnetic and pure was our start, but you never wanted to risk breaking each other’s heart.
You’ve been 100% honest and pure with me and you can say the same; doesn’t that mean anything to you? How can you turn away from something so promising and true?
At first you said you wanted to give it a go, chat about how far we could take this show. At first you weren’t afraid of me or what we could be. But then the fear set in; you let the doubt win. You closed the door, on what could have been forever more.
Some call me overdramatic; but at least I’m real. True to who I am, I don’t hide how I feel. My heart is on my sleeve, sporting the bruises you pretend not to understand, but acting tough doesn’t make always you “a man.”
Your optimism turned to paranoia when you revoked your feelings for me, you said you had been burned so bad previously and those scars you bear, invisible to many, but not to me; I care.
You told me that we were both too old to play games! So why am I sitting here feeling like you cheated? You waged a conquest for my heart so silently as if you were in stealth mode, like a motorcycle ride in the dark, away we rode, but then came your selfish games; you tried to make me think I was going insane. But when I wouldn’t play your game anymore, you decided you couldn’t get enough of me after all and that’s when things started to get rough as for me, I did fall.
I was trying to get over your, I said it was hard to look you in the eye, so what did you do, but try, try, and try until I finally looked you dead in those baby blues, hoping my look communicated how much I wanted you to stop your games. I fall fast with you I just couldn’t handle the pain. Not so secretly, I longed for you and you were so good at pretending not to care. The scars of your rejection, I still wear.
You’ve taken the easy way out and I can’t even fully blame you, everyone else is where you are, I’m asking you to stand out with me like two shooting stars.
I know it’s partly because you’re hurt. I have to keep telling myself that so I remember that you’re human because sometimes you feel more like a monster! I get so upset with myself for believing you could do anything but leave me feeling broken. These words eat me alive, but at least now they’ve been spoken.
I said my truth and now I have peace, I pray one day the pain in my heart will cease. I know I can be a lot to handle, but can’t you see I’m the girl you’ve been wishing for on every birthday candle? Ever since you can remember, then one faithful December, I saw you and thought, maybe? I know you felt the spark of us meeting too, but it couldn’t make you want me enough to stay and now the “good” times they haunt me, night and day.
The worst part of this, no matter how mad I get, I still can’t forget how much I want to hold you, just take your hand and leave all this behind for a chance to make it to the promise land.
I know it might seem like I’m asking for a lot. I’m asking you to trust in something that you can’t even see, I’m asking you to break your rules, I’m asking you to break free. Take a chance on a what if and if you just trust me, you could feel, feel how real this chemistry is.
I can’t promise you eternity and I can’t promise you a one night stand either, but I can promise you truth, I can promise you me, all dramatic and true parts included and I don’t think you know what that feels like, or at least it’s been a while and you’ve been scarred.
But if you want to try to remember what that innocence feels like again, maybe give me a ring. See if I’m still interested in you or if my feelings have since gone cool. Either way, I couldn’t make you stay and that just a matter of fact. I still dream of the day your feelings will come back.
I know I fight with you and you might feel as if we’ve been in this for 20 years, but baby it’s real and how many other people can you tell me make you FEEL?
I’m praying so hard that I can just crush this, forget about you, feel indifferent, but I know the bigger parts of me wants the fairytale “what if…” ending, so why are we pretending? What if this is it? What if it’s meant to be? What if I get hit by a bus tomorrow? Are you going to regret not knowing as much as me?
I’ve already started my day, but I just can’t make these thoughts go away. I was cleaning, laughing, dancing, then just like clockwork thoughts of you came a’ prancing.
I hope you know from the first time we talked face to face, I knew you were not like the others. I comb back through these memories that sometimes I wish I could erase. You were different, you had empathy for thy brother.
You more than just accepted and understood your privilege, you SYMPATHIZED with those being negatively affected by it. I’d never seen that in the past, I was intrigued. I’ve dated others and it’s boggled my mind how they could be so insensitive and unkind.
But you, you more than understood, you sympathized and strived to be different. A fact that I always seem to remember just when it feels like I need to forget you most. I’m so sick of being haunted by this ghost.
If this pandemic doesn’t put things in perspective, then I don’t know what could possibly make you self-reflective enough to change your mind, so I just sit here with thoughts of you in my head, wishing I could make those thoughts reality instead.
The strong, independent part of me wants to forget you and banish your memories for eternity to a place of forgotten hurt and pain. I’m officially putting down my armor, nothing left to fight for, you won the war, you won the game.
Love Sincerely,
The Hopeless Romantic also in All of Us
P.S. What I told my sister about you: Bruh like it is it the end of the world and if that doesn’t make fuckboy want to fuck me then what the fuck? There’s that’s the new how much wood would a would chuck chuck…
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