I dream about Bird and look up Chevy online.
Seeing their faces makes my heart stop for a moment. It hammers to a halt as I try to gasp for air. I blink in stunned silence and then suddenly feel very heavy. My breathe escapes my body, replaced by sadness that is overwhelming for a brief moment.
Chevy. Oh, Chevy. He looks exactly the same, and I can tell his life is almost no different than it was when he refused to let me be a part of it any longer. I miss the closeness we shared. I truly did love him... I meat it when I drunkenly slipped it in at the end of that evening when I left the village, temporarily in person, but forever in spirit. I know he knew it as well, and longed to hear it by the look on his face as the words left my mouth. He wanted it, but it also stung. There are so many moments I feel I missed with him. I wanted him to stop me. To scream at me “don’t marry him-I love you. I want to be with you and only you.” But instead he never tried anything, pursued another with a similar situation, and told me “our timing was off.” I was too young and naive and scared to try myself. I know I will wonder my entire life why he didn’t make me his. I know we both wanted it. And then, when I tried to return, it truly was too late. I guess some things aren’t meant to be is the only real answer I have to a million unanswered questions - the main one being “when will I finally get over this?” I don’t know if I’ll ever stop replaying that morning in the walk-in and how either he or I could have changed our entire lives right then and there.
I miss Bird, as well. It’s different, but true. I miss our friendship; we told each other everything. It’s sad that 3 years of whatever that was could have been tossed away in an evening. And while he may have judged me and my choices harshly and to a standard I wouldn’t want to be held to, and been quite a terrible person on occasion who’s lifestyle was (and I’m sure still is) in shambles, there is a part of him I truly, genuinely miss. He had a soft spot for me. The night he told me I was an idiot, his voice was not full of contempt, but of concern. He wanted more for me, and was angry with me for not getting it myself - for being too emotional. He didn’t like emotion. And that’s what tore us apart in the end... I wonder how many times he tried before he gave up, or if he even did... I wonder why I didn’t seek him out that one last time like I knew I could. I’m left with immense wonder about him. I hope he’s happy. Genuinely happy. I fear he has too many blind spots to ever have a truly fulfilling life, and I have always wondered what exactly he is running from with the life he lives. He is terrified of substance and of letting himself feel sad or lonely. That’s an exhausting way to live your life.
Baby post to come soon. I’m still recovering in many ways and adjusting. Not ready to write yet.
