I have three notebooks of letters that I’ve written to someone who has won my heart in the strangest of ways. I’m not sure why I write to him, but I guess somewhere deep down, I have faith that we’ll be together one day and he’ll get to read what my life has been like without him through this crazy journey. I know it sounds crazy, and trust me when I say that seeking psychiatric help has been considered multiple times, but there’s something that keeps telling me to hold on.
I somehow manage to hold on, even though my heart is breaking watching him love someone else. This girl is perfect. Too fucking perfect. She’s beautiful. And she’s a lot younger than me, and to be perfectly honest, it pisses me off. I just wish she would go away, yet, oddly enough, there are days when I learn so much from her. She’s a good person with a good heart. I’m seeing what kind of guy he truly is through her and he’s even more amazing than I imagined. I want nothing more than for him to be happy, but is it horrible of me to wish for them to break up? Maybe that makes me a bitch who doesn’t deserve him. To be perfectly honest, after the way I’ve been treated from guys in the past, I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t deserve someone as heaven-sent as this guy. We accept the love we think we deserve, and maybe I’m just not meant to be loved the way I imagine it should be. Maybe love is just a fairytale. Nothing more.
So as I sit here and wait for our time to come, I wonder if I’m waiting in vain. What would he think of this whole story? Do I even have a chance? Why would he ever love me when he has her? I need a miracle.
As Christmas approaches, I keep having this reoccurring dream where my doorbell rings Christmas morning and he’s standing on my doorstep, magically led to my house by God showing him the way. Either I’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies, or I really need my head examined. I just want him here with me, not with her. I’ve never had the chance to have someone I love actually love me back. Maybe that’s my problem. I’ve been waiting for a long time. They say that waiting is a way of portraying patience and true love. In this society, its called being a freak or a stalker.
So maybe this is nothing more than a dream. Maybe I’ll write a romance novel about it. I’ll go on book tours and sign my life away while he’s out there somewhere, not knowing its all about him. I’ll picture that scene in Before Sunset when Jesse is on his book tour for his novel about that one magical life changing night with Celine and he suddenly looks up and there she is. Or like in Serendipity, when the stars align and Sara and Jonathan are finally reunited. Fate. Is it real? This whole situation sounds like a movie, but my life is not a movie nor is it destined for what I imagine it to be.
Just when I think its getting easier, it punches me in the gut. Just when I get punched, I get back up again with a hand from above keeping me steady and showing me the signs. I may be a nutcase, but somewhere deep down within my jaded heart, I’m still holding on to hope.
I’m not entirely sure why I just confessed all of this to the world, since I have a fear of people thinking I’m crazy, but I guess I’m hoping that some of you out there can relate. Maybe there’s someone you immediately thought of while reading this. You love them. Tell them. I had plenty of opportunities to tell said boy but I felt it wasn’t the right time. Plus, I knew he had a girlfriend the last time I saw him, so out of respect for her, I held my tongue. Maybe I’m stupid for missing so many chances but I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t believe God was showing me something. He’s confusing me but I’m cooperating.
I love you. Life can make you bitter. I’m trying not to be, but I’m only human.