I was cruel. I know. I’m sorry.

You were the one who always got me out of bed, those days. You were always impatient like that, but I didn’t mind. You wanted the best for me. You organized my life: what to eat, when to sleep, what to say, where to go, what to dream. I admit I asked your previous lovers about you. Is it always like this? I wondered. Get used to it, they said.

You were a riot. Do you remember how many times I asked you, even begged you to explain what you were on about? Before we met, I was just a simple woman minding her own business. Suddenly, I was travelling, meeting all sorts of people, following you around on your every whim. I felt crazy. I needed a break. Yes, I know, we would rest when we were done. That’s what you always said.

We had our moments though, despite the whirlwind. I liked it when we got lost. How many times, do you think? A handful? A dozen? You always held my hand and asked me to trust you. You always promised you knew what you were doing. You were always right. I still wish you’d tell me in advance when you wanted an adventure. At least I could grab a snack or something. I’d be less cranky that way.

When you finally (finally!) cut me some slack, I couldn’t recognize myself anymore. It was still me in the mirror, but I’d stare at my reflection for ages. You had changed me but I couldn’t see it. Sometimes I wished it could show on the outside. People were asking difficult questions, like when they’d meet my new love, or if I had pictures of our travels to share. I wished I had proof, like a tan or a scar. All I had to show for it was pages and pages of gibberish.

You tried to convince me that it wasn’t gibberish, it was magic. Just you wait, you said. Fine, I sighed, can I get my life back now? 

Maybe that was the moment when I lost you. Maybe my doubts about us grew too much. Maybe I was too eager to return to boredom, to mindless routines, to assume that our bond was just a phase. But I miss the excitement sometimes. Everyone who came after you never burned as bright.

You were right, of course. We had created something almost impossible. We wandered into foreign lands like we owned them. We said things that needed saying, things that everyone else was afraid to think, let alone speak. You were crude sometimes, but your utter shameless freedom is what I miss the most.

I moved on, or so I thought. Another version of you has my attention now. But I can’t help but think we might have done things differently. Maybe I shouldn’t have been too quick to shove you aside, to question your intentions, to believe everyone else instead of trusting you.

You were, and always will be, my beginning. Nobody can ever take your place. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash