Cassius Marcellus Coolidge, 1894.
There was a boy in my life whose present and future tenses no longer involve my existence.
It was nobody’s fault in this particular instance. Although, if I were to argue, it’d be entirely mine. I saw the ending before the beginning of something solely and absolutely wonderful.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to stay. All I’ve ever wanted was to remain. I’m more than happy to be wherever he is.
I knew my heart would be broken the instant I saw his face. He possessed – no, he still possesses the ability to twist and tug my heartstrings. He never twisted and only tugged gently, for he is nothing but my precious little being. The first glance he cast towards me was nothing short of love, perhaps with a brief shade of caution that was thrown away almost instantaneously.
He gave me his heart immediately, and I reciprocated without hesitating. I’ve always been so accustomed to reluctance, but he made it so easy for me to dive in.
He was the hardest to walk away from, and now we are separated by the seas.
He didn’t understand my devastation and poignancy that day. I sat there and held him, greedily wanting more time as he tried his best to wipe my flowing tears away. I didn’t care about the curious onlookers, the erratic background noise, or even my personal belongings. How could I leave without feeling anything, especially now with his existence?
I never knew that saying goodbye could be this difficult until he came into my life. For the longest time, I thought I knew it all, and that I’d love nothing more than New York – the city that introduced and inspired me to the vitality of life itself.
His eyes seemed to ask me what’s going on and what’s wrong – but most importantly, he simply wanted me to stop crying, to put an end to my sorrows. He couldn’t comprehend, but tried his utmost best to stop it.
Just for once, I wish I could properly communicate with him.
I wanted to tell him that I was about to fly away. Somewhere far, far away. More specifically, 12,680 kilometers away. It wasn’t the distance or the time difference that bothered me, it was the longing and the uncertainty. Not of his love for me, nor my love for him, but for the next time. There is no more next though.
I know for a fact that he remembers me, and I try to place him in the back of my heart most of the time. It’s funny how the more I try to repress certain things, the faster they seem to build up and smack me right in the face. So, here I am these days, not trying to put him out of my mind, but just simply missing him and appreciating the times we’ve shared together. Our moments.
I don’t know whether his recollection of me causes him pain. I certainly hope not, and if that were to be the case, I hope he would be able to forget my entire existence.
To the greatest love of my life, perhaps one out of the many the good boys, and definitely my second to none: I love and miss you very much. Thank you for teaching me how to give, be kind, and redefining the word love. I know you’re living a wonderful life and getting lots of love and play time, and really, that’s all I need to know after our goodbye.