I will not pretend like I have not thought of every possible permutation of words I could have said in that moment when we were talking back in the corridors of our old high school, nor will I act like I haven't stopped thinking about it since then.

There was a disconnect in the way you said goodbye on that fateful afternoon that pricked my ears. I don’t know why I was so irked by the way you said my name, because I don't think I heard my name from you often when—I thought—we were together. We always called each other by something else, because hearing our own names from one another meant there was something wrong.

But I don’t know, something just felt off in those last few weeks. I could not quite reach you like I used to. Messages were left unreplied. Good nights were left unsaid. What I did to deserve your coldness, I cannot wrap my head around, but I have several theories racing through my mind.

In the midst of immense self-doubt and desperation, I probably did something that you took as the last straw. I’m not completely sure what exactly, but it won’t be the first time I did something so mind-bogglingly stupid.

So much has changed since we last spoke. While I no longer wallow in the pains of your absence, I still wonder if it’s still possible to be intertwined with another soul like yours. 

Back then, talking to you was all that ever mattered. I didn’t understand the rules, and I felt held back by the insincerity of traditional courtship. I didn’t think about how fast we were going or where we were headed—the only important thing to me was getting to see how you saw the world.

In you, I found safety and security that I have never experienced before from anywhere else in my life. Even in the moments when our mutual understanding was on the line, you never stopped being true to who you are.

I found solace in the fact that you were there and that we could struggle together—that I could run to you in the middle of the night complaining about bouncing across the city from boundary to boundary for presswork and you would run back to me with stories about some tyrannical math teacher.

Strangely‌, I keep running into scores of people who go by your name. I keep hearing that call sign so much that alarm bells are constantly ringing in my ear. As much as I would love to forget, it still stings to be reminded of what could have been. 

Now, I live in abject fear of myself and the discomfort my social ineptitudes may cause to the people I love. I won’t forget the moments I spiraled out of control because I couldn’t tell whether you were actually offended at me or if you were still doing a bit, or the moments I was worried when I said something that sent the conversation into awkward silence. Looking back, I should have picked up the cues you were laying down. Maybe I should have hugged you when you wanted me to. I should have given you space when you needed me to. 

In a sense, I feel like I’m doomed to make the same mistakes. But I can’t lay my head down forever in shame and insecurity, constantly afraid of my own mind and emotions. There’s something scary about being vulnerable with another person again, but you made me realize that I didn’t have to be so terrified.

I do not have to be on my own forever. Perhaps one day, I will be understood again like how you understood me. ●