Dear You Part 3

Dear You,

There aren’t very many days where you pass through my thoughts, and I rejoice in that. You did, however, come up the other day when one of my best friends told me she killed you in a dream. I laughed and asked how she’d done it. She said with a shotgun. My response was, “Shotgun… cool.” No joke. I have it in writing. It’s funny to think it’s been five years almost to the day since I saw you last. And it doesn’t bother me. I used to think that it was weird to feel so detached from you, but it doesn’t anymore. It’s freeing. I have no worries when it comes to you not being in my life, him, on the other hand, I worry about him.

He didn’t see what we all saw, he saw things differently. Saw you differently. Do you ever wonder why he held on when no one else did? You’ve hurt him through your actions. Ugh, I hate that word, ‘actions’. It implies doing something. I’ve used it inappropriately. You didn’t do anything, you did nothing. You didn’t call him back when he called you to beg you to pick him up. You didn’t call when he wanted to be with you over a holiday weekend, when he wanted to spend time with you. You did nothing, said nothing, acted on nothing, even though all signs in his eyes were pointing in your favor. I can’t speak for him now, but I think his eyes are closed to you forever.

We don’t speak of you. Not even in a He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sort of fashion. You’re so far gone that you probably wouldn’t even get that reference. I can see the hurt in his eyes, the pain. The tough attitude he takes on to pretend that it doesn’t matter that you’re not around. It’s painful to see, hard to ignore, but I don’t say anything. Won’t say anything. It terrifies me to see what I see in his eyes because I don’t want him to hurt that way, and I hate that you’re the one that put it there. The one that caused it. It’s sickening. I’ve never known someone to be such a coward.

You run. Not in an I’m-trying-to-stay-healthy sort of way, but in an I’m-trying-to-leave-everyone-far-behind-so-I-can-bury-my-head-and-not-have-to-deal-with-all-the-wrong-decisions-I’ve-made sort of way. Let me tell you, you’ve made a lot of wrong decisions, and deciding to ignore him for so long was the worst one.

He would have held on if you’d allowed it.

**A**