Almost Love

Dear My Almost Love

All I wanted was for you to love me. The first time I saw you, you swept me off my feet. I saw your confidence, your carelessness for other’s opinions. I saw hate, and longing, and the hope that was almost gone. I saw everything I had, and everything I wanted to be.

In my eyes, you were beautiful. To me, you were misunderstood. Driven to the point of anger and hatred. Pushed from who you were to what you are now. I saw what I thought was a reflection of me, someone who understood. In my eyes, all you wanted was to be loved by someone who wasn’t forced. To me, you wanted to scream out all the mistreatment you didn’t deserve, and everything you wanted in return.

When you talked about revenge I thought you didn’t really mean it. When you talked about the violence you wanted to act on against all who did you wrong, I simply thought you were venting your frustrations. Never once did I suspect what you told me you wanted, you actually meant in the most literal of senses. As I understood it, you just wish it never happened. You wanted to erase it, replace it with something better. More pure. Something lovely. No part of me thought you wished to watch the world burn.

I should have seen it coming. You hated everyone. No one could do any right. Nobody could ever please you. All you wanted was to be high. It was all you ever talked about. How much you hated everyone, and how much you wish you weren’t sober.

So imagine my surprise when you loved me. When you held me in your arms and told me I was special. You didn’t hate me. You wanted to watch the world burn with me. You wanted me by your side instead of in the flames of pure loathing you wanted to set upon everyone else. You swore you never loved a single soul like you loved me. I understood what no one else could, the pain you felt in your heart. You never expected to find someone who was so similar to you. Who hated the world as much as you. Who wanted to die as much as you. You told me I was perfect.

I wanted to be perfect for you. I wanted to be the one you loved, the one who understood you, the one who watched the world burn with you. I never told you that I thought the world could be beautiful. I never told you that sometimes, in the midst of all the pain, there was something I wanted to stay for. I never let you know that the way you disregarded your safety scared me so much sometimes. I never told you what you didn’t want to hear because I couldn’t stand the thought of you not loving me. The thought of you replacing me. I let you mold me into someone I promised myself I would never become. I let you tell me to hurt people, and I did. I never told you that I would do anything for you, but you knew.

You were not who I thought you were. You were not misunderstood. You were exactly what everyone else told me you were. You never wanted my love the way I needed yours. You knew I would do anything for you, while you wouldn’t even say goodbye if you decided for good that it was time to leave. You told me as much. You told me you wouldn’t tell me when you were done with this life. You told me you would leave me to figure it out myself. You left me with the anxiety of not knowing if the person I loved so desperately would be alive in the morning. You let me believe you were wonderful. You let me believe that everyone was out to get us. That we knew, and that they wanted to make us feel weak, so we had only each other to keep safe. You twisted concern for our safety into trying to keep us down.

You never loved me. I wish I could go back and tell myself that I do not want to be like you. I should never wish for you to love me like I thought I needed.

You told me I was your world. And all you wanted was to watch the world burn.