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This Time Last Year

Three minutes of reading 659 words – 22 July 2012
English – original version

Amaz­ing how quick­ly a year goes by, how quick­ly we move on, how quick­ly we for­get. To sim­ply live as though noth­ing hap­pened, as if I was nev­er crazy about you, as if you had nev­er ex­ist­ed. Some­where be­tween your green eyes, crooked smile, the way you walked, the way you smoked your cig­a­rettes, your laugh, your ac­cent, the saddness you qui­et­ly car­ried, and your masochis­tic ways, I fell for you. Our seem­ing­ly end­less phone calls about you, me, LA, work, school, friends, fam­i­ly, our fu­ture, or about noth­ing at all kept me hooked. The kind­ness your friends gave me, the re­spect you nev­er broke. And once I told you my big­gest se­cret, your feel­ings for me on­ly grew. You mo­ti­vat­ed me, in­spired me to write. I wrote about you, main­ly, about your af­fec­tion for me and how it changed me, about us and all our pos­si­bil­i­ties. I swore we were meant for each oth­er, con­vinced my­self it was so. And once you asked me to mar­ry you, I couldn’t re­sist. Sum­mer of 2012we were to get mar­ried and would move to where ev­er I chose to go to col­lege, I would study, you’d work, and we’d trav­el when­ev­er we had the chance to. France, Ger­many, Switzer­land, Hol­land, Eu­rope could have been all ours. All for my pho­tog­ra­phy, any­thing for my ca­reer. But we were liv­ing in a bub­ble, men­tal­ly se­clud­ed from re­al­i­ty and how dif­fi­cult this all might be. Rushed good­byes helped us both, no need to linger on some­thing small, sim­ple, nec­es­sary. Back in LA, I tried, long dis­tance wasn’t fun and nev­er made my heart grow fonder, it made my mind re­al­ize I was much too young to set­tle down and main­tain a hap­py mar­riage, to put cer­tain goals in life on hold un­til you were ready; like get­ting mar­ried by the church, you weren’t re­li­gious, and the idea nev­er crossed your mind. All we need­ed was a civ­il union, that was good enough for you, not me. I broke the en­gage­ment three months in, you said you un­der­stood, knew we were rush­ing, we were still to­geth­er, we were still a long dis­tance re­la­tion­ship and los­ing each oth­er to the miles. Re­minders of your love would flood my in­box, prom­ises to nev­er for­get me, or us, were con­stant­ly made. You had al­ready lost me by then, not on­ly to the miles, but to the phone calls that on­ly be­came more and more dis­tant, to my ed­u­ca­tion and faith that al­ways came first, and to a boy that nev­er gave up from the mo­ment he first saw me four years ago. We were still to­geth­er, and I spend­ing time with him, for­get­ting you. I broke up with you, with hope for an­oth­er chance maybe lat­er in life, or in an­oth­er. I fo­cused on my­self and you dis­ap­peared. I con­tin­ued spend­ing time with him and bare­ly heard from you. I hat­ed my­self for ru­in­ing you, and our once-on-a-while con­ver­sa­tions were now filled with harsh words that meant noth­ing, but did so much. I ran to him for com­fort and ev­ery ar­gue­ment was a rea­son for me to lose my­self in him. He nev­er knew or asked. You had no idea and nev­er both­ered. You dis­tanced your­self more than the miles ev­er could and push me far enough to nev­er care. Sum­mer of 2012and all I do rem­i­nisce and strug­gle to find where we went wrong, where we slipped, where we failed each oth­er. My at­tempts to con­tact you are hope­less and my knowl­edge of your well-be­ing is vague. But I pray for you. I pray that you are well, and alive. I pray that your saddness is gone and that you have found some­one who loves you more than I ev­er could. Amaz­ing how quick­ly a year goes by, how quick­ly we think we’ve moved on, and how quick­ly we find our­selves in the same place.