I grew up with someone who, if I'm being honest, I've been head over heels in love with as long as I've known her. I didn't have the nerve to tell her until she was preparing to leave after high school graduation. Her response was that she wouldn't date me because she didn't want to hurt me. Over the years I've been told that many times, but all I've ever heard was "I'm not interested in you, but I don't trust you with the truth, so I'm telling you something nicer." And so I held on to her, thinking that maybe we'd one day reconnect and I could show her that I would be more than willing to trust her with my heart unconditionally - and that she could trust me with hers.
I've always thought of her as the yin to my yang. She kept me grounded when my brain was flying off in a million directions. Held me down when I wanted to break things (or people). Made me feel safe when I wanted to curl up and hide from the world. I'd always felt like she was miles ahead of me, growing intellectually and emotionally while I remained juvenile and naive. It's not that I thought her superior. On the contrary; her worldliness and realism seemed a stark contrast to my unabashed optimism and pathological need to see the good in people. She always seemed a good fit for me, because she was a good balance in subtle, non-confrontational ways.
I don't know when or how it happened, but somewhere along the line I became a terrible person. Caring became contempt. Playfulness became promiscuity. Instead of judging fairly based on merits, I began to judge harshly based on appearances. I say this because while I can still feel love, it is fragile and easily corrupted.
And so said opportunity arose, and like many other opportunities I've had with others, I fucked it up. That's not to say anything would have otherwise happened between us. She's one of the few who were legitimately telling the truth when she said she was trying to protect me by not being with me. The problem is that I wanted her, and I didn't care about the consequences, and I acted. I've damaged our friendship, and I don't know if it will get back to the way it was.
What makes it worse is the moments before were perfect. We were wide open, on a whole different level. For once, I was the one keeping her safe. Assuring her that she was going to be ok. That the demons haunting her had no power over her. That people loved her and she wasn't alone. And I fucked it up.
To add insult to injury, circumstances forced us to part ways sooner than planned. She might not admit it, but I could tell it was weighing on her. She'd dig subtly, and wouldn't allow me to address the elephant in the room afterward. A few more days, and we might've been able to talk it out. But as I write this, she's off doing stuff that's forced her to cut communication from everyone for a few days, and I'm terrified this is going to fester and never heal.
