It’s getting dark outside, and I look out my window at snow on a tree.
I’m sure it must be something about its blueness.
Perhaps blueness must be revisited to truly understand this feeling.
I have dreamt of you almost every night, seemingly unprovoked.
In the most recent one, you told me that you never stopped thinking of me,
Never stopped wanting me.
I think I feel the same, but in a different way.
We always seemed to want different things from each other.
We never really lined up, as sad as it is.
I find myself often forgetting what we wanted from each other in the first place.
I think you may have wanted someone to be awestruck by you,
And then you wanted someone who had always left you awestruck.
I believe at first I wanted someone to make life a little less empty,
To drive me back down to reality.
Then later I just wanted you to choose me,
No, to clearly choose me.
To speak your mind to me the way you only do between these dreams,
Or between bits of passive aggression sprinkled here and there.
Towards the end I learned that I did not actually even want you to love me.
I just wanted you to see me for all that I am.
To be my friend, no strings attached.
To laugh with me.
In these dreams I always remind you of your current life.
It seems perfectly lovely, and I truly hope you are happy.
I truly hope you aren’t dreaming right back to me.
I’ve labelled you poisonous before.
Perhaps unfairly, or perhaps accurately.
You tell me.
I only wish that remembering the past didn’t leave me so interconnected with you.
I don’t believe I should even be acknowledging you in writing like this.
What I will say-
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.
I spent a lot of time that winter treating you like an option when you were trying to show me that I meant more than that.
I spent a lot of time caught in the honey of Stockholm syndrome,
And not nearly enough time considering that there are other sweeteners.
Poisonous though they may be…
It would never have worked anyway, mainly for reasons outside our control.
But I could have told you what was wrong that day.
I could have let you sit with me,
or let you put your arm around me at the bonfire.
Most of all, I could have looked you in the eye when you first stared at me.