It is adulthood and maturity that brings realisations and awakenings about past loves. Loves that you realise much too late and out of character, that they were, perhaps, after all, a little bit real.
The love I had for him when I was young was potentially an eternal one and yet my wings were cut short because our youth was the great guillotine.
That led to a great depth of frustration, anger and resentment from me towards him for so many years… for so long….
And his unending silence in return exacerbated those feelings more and more….
I had to learn to stop waiting, expecting, asking the universe for an apology. I had to learn to do it on my own. I had to learn to let go… and free myself… be freed and in turn, free him…
I could be crazy and playful but also wildly introspective. I was passionate and fiery and uncomfortably deep. He needed light, not dark and mysterious – which is what I was back then when I was with him.
We have always had this mutual unspoken poetic understanding of each other. Whether that’s all in my head or not, I won’t ever know. But it has always felt that way to me. At times, it has felt like we are the same person. There are many times when we don’t need to speak.
Centuries can fly by and still our friendship will remain – a friendship that runs deep despite the many years that go by between our interactions. A friendship that is sustained through a mutual love that, I know, is held deep in both our hearts…