Unwritten Words

Crosby pt. 2

The last letter I wrote to you was on March 13, 2021. Today is August 14. Roughly four months later.

And well...I visited Colorado last week. I was there for a wedding, but lo and behold I was in the exact community as our university. I drove by our college, the shopping mall all of us students went to, the grocery store, the park that's right down the road, the Target, the place we all went to get pies Wednesday nights, the streets that we sang songs loudly on while we drove in the middle of the night. All the places that held such lovely memories before my depression kicked in towards the end of university. Before COVID forced us home--moving me away for good. 

I saw an old friend of ours. And your name was brought up. I forget why. Perhaps I wanted to vent my anger out one last time to someone who actually knew you? Perhaps I just wanted to make conversation? Perhaps the topic was on my current love life? Either way, we started talking about you. 

I explained our last encounter over phone, how it broke me. How we're just not friends anymore. How I was unofficially kicked out of your life. 

And he--our friend--said, "It's true, he took his time ripping that band-aid off. I would've definitely done differently. But I know Crosby, he never wanted to hurt you."

I felt pretty bitter at that statement. But as he continued talking about you and we discussed the friendship I had with you, I realized something pretty obvious. 

We had a beautiful friendship. I was just so blind to it. 

You were a human. A human who loved spending time with me, walking with me, trusting me with your vulnerabilities, and just living spontaneously with me. 

And in my head, you had evolved to a romanticized version of yourself that didn't exist--at least not for me. You weren't human, but rather a goal. A dream. Something I pursued; never really a someone. Just a thing I really wanted because you...you saw me, Crosby. Unlike anyone ever had up to that point. 

Remember that time we went to Dairy Queen? For your birthday, I think? I just know you loved Dairy Queen food for some reason, specifically their ranch, and because you loved it, I insisted we go. We sat down in a booth, opposite sides. You had a flannel on, and your chicken tender dish and ranch. And like always, we had a deep conversation. Well, it started out with: 

"Do guys compare themselves to other guys? Like do you ever get insecure?"

After your answer, you turned the question on me, "What about you? Do you have insecurities?"

I gave the obvious answer, "Yes." I believed I laughed too. 

"There are girls who are just always recognized, and are so pretty. Like everything they do is just gorgeous." I listed off some examples of girls we both knew, then I paused. And in my head, I had an epiphany. A moment where all my insecurities and desires clicked. The puzzle of my identity was complete in one simple sentence. "I suppose...I just always wanted to special."

That moment was so life-changing for me, since it felt like I had discovered the root of literally all my problems. And what I wanted you to say was something along the lines of, "Well, you're special to me." 

It's probably good you didn't. And I don't even remember what you said, I just know that it wasn't half-as-good as it should've been for that an eye-opening moment I had. 

Looking back now, I can say though, that probably what made me desire a relationship so much with you, was because you made me feel, well, special.

I remember you invited me to your 20th birthday (or 21st, I forget...or 22nd. Oh my gosh, help). And well, I was one of the only ones there not in your immediate friend group. That. That made me feel special. 

Now that I'm older...and it's been about a year since our fall-out, I can see it for what it was. I was special. Yes. In the sense that I was a friend, and one of the few that instantly popped in your head for a birthday party. 

And that...wow. You did love me, didn't you? 

Not in the way I loved you, definitely. But you did love me as a person? You loved me as your friend?

Because after returning to Colorado, I had a dream about us. And I was at your door, apologizing, trying to make up with you...but it was too late. 

Not that our fallout is by any means my fault. But I suppose it's not your fault either. The whole situation was just fucked up because of my bleeding heart and your charming one. 

I fell too hard, and you? All you wanted to do was walk together. Not fall. Not jump. Not race. Walk. Together, side by side. Me with my random, obscured questions and you with your desire to listen and respond. Me with my Californian shiver to the cold, and you with your big flannel and boots. Me with a keychain I got embroidered with your name because you never could find one with your name at gas stations, and you with your wooden ornament that you decorated yourself. 

Two friends. Two human beings who just managed to find a connection to each other in this big, wide world. 

I'm so sorry, Crosby. 

I screwed up. And now, you're gone. Happy, with a friend of mine no less! And I will never be at that celebration. 

Life has, and will, move on. Without each other. 

Well...if you ever want to talk, I'm here. We can start over. Since I'm not that girl who confessed her feelings to you that cold, winter night in January. Not anymore. Not ever again, especially after the whirlwind of experiences I had in 2020, and now 2021. And I know you're not the boy who left me in the dark that day in March. 

So perhaps we can be new together? We can actually be two friends this time? 

Sincerely,

the girl who always wished for more than she'll get