I miss you, and I feel a little guilty saying that. I feel guilty knowing that I can’t completely get over you, no matter what I do. It’s kind of pathetic that years later I still think of you, but love is rarely noble, it is rarely something that you can be proud of. Love is something that exists when you are broken down and weakened, when everything else is stripped away and you are at your breaking point.

I met you when I was at my breaking point. You weren’t my rebound guy, you weren’t anything, really. You were another guy that liked me when I was put together and blond and happy, and it was the summertime and everything had a sheen to it. I ignored you, at first, and then at 2 o’clock in the morning, we talked. We talked like I hadn’t talked to anyone else, even the one person I had been with that I thought was maybe going to be the love of my life. We talked, and you were interested, and I was interested, and it was so good. I woke up the next day excited to hear from you, excited to see you.

If this was a romantic drama, the record would probably scratch to a halt and the voiceover would say: “I bet you’re wondering how I got here”. Because it is almost three years later, I live miles away from you, and I haven’t heard from you in months. I wonder if you are doing well, I wonder if you’re happy, I wonder if you’ve found someone or found a great place to live or if you still work at your on-again-off-again job. My heart aches. I haven’t heard your voice in probably 6 months, I haven’t touched your skin, ridden in your “Boomerang”, your old Toyota. It’s been a while, I’m still not over you.

I’m in a relationship now, and I have been for a while, but he’s not like you. No one has ever been like you. I feel guilty to you for loving this guy because at one point, you wanted me. I know you think you could do better for me; some days I agree. I feel guilty for that, and I feel guilty for staying with this man when my heart is somewhere else, but I am stuck, I am suspended and I don’t know what to do about it. It has been a long road. *record scratch again*

Rewind to April of 2014. Only 2 and a half years ago, but it feels like an eternity. I went back through messages to find the date. I read a few, I cried a little, I sat back down at my computer because this is my testimony. I loved you. I still do. At first, there wasn’t a problem with that except for you were older. You were a few years older than me and that was okay, we were both a little interested, a little bored, that was okay. We spent about 8 hours with the general idea that we might be together, for a week I clung pitifully to the idea that there was actually the start of a relationship, and we hung out a few times. It was good, and I was clingy because that’s who I am as a person, though I have realized that really I was only ever like that with you. You told me you wanted to play the field, I was heartbroken.

Usually, that’s where it ends. We move on, don’t talk again, maybe run into each other at the grocery store. We live. That’s not what happened here. I was too attached; I couldn’t let go. I tried, but it didn’t work. Eventually I got to the point of pathetic where you just didn’t talk to me, because it was better that way. It hurt like hell but I recognize that it was better that way. Almost a year later, we reconnected. Everything was different. I wasn’t the same pathetic girl I had been, and we talked and we laughed and we both accepted that no strings was the way to go. That didn’t work either. All of my feelings came back, though I kept them hidden this time, and it was horrible. I got into a relationship because I was a junior in high school, and that’s what you do when you’re a junior in high school. Months later, you wanted me again. I was shattered again. You hurt me all over again like you hurt me a million times, though mostly, I admit, it was my fault. This was the worst though because it was my fault. I hadn’t waited long enough, I moved on. I made it about me, it was terrible. We saw each other a few times but I was almost solely full of regret, and it stung.

I haven’t heard from you in months again, and it still hurts. Sometimes I want to throw everything away and run away with you but I know you don’t want me anymore. I have a good life with a good guy, but I still want you. I hate myself for wanting you. When I have a few drinks I cry over you. I feel guilty for wanting you, I feel guilty for not being with you. I am filled with guilt and regret. I know that it probably wouldn’t work with you. We have different lifestyles, I doubt that you even care anymore, I doubt you’ll ever see this. I know that I live far away now so we couldn’t be together. I know all these things but it doesn’t change my irrational sadness that is sometimes all consuming.

The one that got away isn’t a cute concept. It isn’t a Katy Perry song or a cute movie where you end up together. It’s real, and it’s painful, and it’s not easy to get over. Not everyone has someone who got away, and I am incredibly jealous of them. I wonder if it was my fault, if it’s too late, if I could change this, if I am too emotionally unattached to the person I am with. It is complex, it is sad, it is guilt. It is something not everyone can understand. It is a shaping force in my life, it is my testimony.