A Letter To The Past

Dear Past,

I loved you. I lost you.
It should be that simple.
I really wish it were.

We moved a few times.
And with every time we did, I became better prepared for what was to come.
I detached myself from normal life. I didn’t make friendships that I would just have to leave again. I didn’t introduce myself to neighbors that I’d just have to move from. I didn’t think twice about isolating myself. I didn’t think it was wrong.
Then another move came.
With every trip came a certain routine.
Throw away everything that’s not a necessity, was the protocol. And then we moved our boxes to the next mark on the map. Of course it was more complex than that; but to me, a change of scenery made no difference in the world.
A little secret I want to tell you. I didn’t fully unpack that move.
I kept a few boxes of stuff like keepsakes, that I knew I wouldn’t open anytime soon, sealed tight. That’s how sure I was that we would go again soon.
And for two whole months, I kept that idea strong in my mind.
Those two months were hell. Even more so than any other place.
Domestic violence between the parent and her new boyfriend added on top of everything. I couldn’t wait to move. To start afresh.

And then I met you.

And that change is the only simple thing in my little tale.
That small moment in time, the first lock of eyes and that meaningless exchange of names hooked me in. You didn’t know this and neither did I, but from that moment I was gone. I would’ve jumped if you said the command.
Hopping at any chance I could to see you came closely after.
Small chat after occasional conversations began to be the highlights of my day.
You had no idea.

For the first time in the years we had hopped across the map, I didn’t want to move. For the first time in my stubborn existence, I sided against myself and opened another box that was sealed tight and unpacked it into my room. As much as I would love to tell myself it was because I needed something out of it, it wasn’t. It was a sign of defeat. I wanted to stay.
After that, I got settled in.
Life before that move seemed void. What was I missing all this time? Laughs, fun and company.
I wasn’t just content anymore: I was happy.

Ready for the part that rips the happy story apart?
Do you remember the last words I said to you? Because I don’t.
In all truth and honesty, I can’t remember.
But I do remember the last word you said to me. "Bye."
I guess it only took one word for you. The simplicity of it!

I knew the last night we were together, that I wouldn’t see you again.
It had been planned for a week by then and there was no going back.
I knew that every smile you gave would be my last memories.
You had no idea, but I knew all too well.
I’d like to say I made every moment count. But that’d be a lie.
I was scared. I was denying it. I was sad.
Cowering away for the night and separating myself as much as possible seemed to be easy in the public place. I regret it.
If I could take our last moments and change them, I would.
But there is no point playing what if games now, is there?

I loved you. But you never knew.
I lost you. Young love passes so quick.
It should be that simple. I should be able to get over you.
I really wish it were. I wish the tears would stop rolling.

Three months later and I’m in my new place.
I haven’t settled in yet. I know we’re only going to move again.
I only unpacked half of my stuff this time. Only the clothes and the basics.

You want a happy ending?
I’m going to unpack my boxes and start my life.
I’m going to take that chance again.
Knowing you is worth the heartbreak.
I don’t ever want to forget you. But I hope you have a great life.

Love,
Someone you’ve probably forgotten.