Someone I sort of loved once upon a time just sent me an email. I had lost track of him over the years, him being in the military and moving around all the time, and me up and splitting town without very much warning. Of course fate is laughing because he sent me the email though Classmates, of which I am not a paying member so I cannot open said email.
So I left my real email address on my profile, (which I, as a freeloading member, am entitled to) and hoped for the best. And if he never sees it, I suppose it's a sign that it is time to move forward and leave my past behind.
Once upon a time I was a kid and everything kind of made sense. Brush your teeth, drink your milk, look both ways before crossing the street. The truth was so easy to understand.
Even the lies were logical.
As you grow up, you can begin to distiguish the difference. As a child you believed people because you didn't understand the concept of lying. Growing up hurts because you know that there are always people willing to hurt you, or are indifferent to your feelings when taking what they want. Always looking out for number one. Telling you beautiful lies.
"I love you"
"I'll call you"
"I'll never hurt you"
And my personal favorite, "I promise I'll pull out"
And once in awhile, you come across someone who would rather just be honest with you, even if it means things get a bit messy. Because think about it, even the people who love you the most will lie to you, maybe to protect your feelings, maybe to protect themselves from your sadness.
As I sit here and think of this boy that I sorta loved once upon a time, I remember so many more that came after him, and how fake it all seems now. The sweet exchange of words, empty promises, kisses and meaningful gazes. And then poof!, it all vanishes as though it was never really there in the first place. And I suppose it never was. But this boy, this boy I sort of loved, he never promised me anything. He never wanted anything. He loved me just the way I was and every once in awhile, he remembers to check in.