Dear You,
I’m not sure what my intentions are with this letter. I’m
not sure you follow the blog any more, although a small piece of me hopes you
do, hopes you still think about me. It’s selfish and I know that, but
considering you consume a lot of my thoughts I don’t find it horribly selfish.
Anyway where am I going with this…
I wish that we could be friends, respectful, truthful, real friends.
Not the kind of “friends” we are now, essentially two ships who pass in the
night. We know the other is there but we don’t acknowledge each other. I wish we
could talk, talk like we did before we dated when we were just friends, even
though it wouldn’t be the same.
Earlier, when you left early, claiming to be tired… It
bugged me. The conversation I was having with Abbs you had walked on in the
middle of. I should have stopped talking, saved a little respect for you. But a
small, awful, part of me wanted you to feel the pain I once felt.
It seems that no matter how strong I try to build myself up
to be I can’t hold it. I can’t keep it from crumbling. I preach what will be,
will be. Right now this new man, he’s what’s meant to be for this moment, who
knows maybe he’s whats meant to be till the end. I will be honest though, the
other night I wished it was you I was kissing. I wanted you to be the one I was
shooting with. I wanted you to be the one who made me feel the rush. But the
rush I felt from him, it was different, how I’m not sure yet.
But it wasn’t you. I’ll always have a soft spot for you, a
piece of my heart that you will own forever, a soft place for you to fall. We
both may move on to love other people, but you’ll always own that piece of me.
You’ll always own the memory of being on the bike with your hand on my knee.
You’ll own those late summer nights. Remember the first time you wrapped your
arm around me, you’ll always own that to.
I’m dreading swinging my leg over his bike, I know you’ll
own that piece of me too. A big part of me is begging to sell my bike and get
away from guys who ride, because it’ll be so painful. But I know that for my
sake I can’t do that. I however won’t date another man in the club, out of
respect for you.
I won’t give up shooting though, I’ve promised myself that.
It’s not a piece you will own, it’s a piece I’ll never let a man own. But the
clearing and my first year deer hunting, you’ll own that. Remember where we
first kissed, remember the song? You’ll own that bar and that song.
The final piece you will own is the end. I’m sorry, but I
can’t find any mercy there. What you did, what you called me... You have to own
that, and I can’t change it. But I will forgive it, if you ask me to.
I guess my point with this letter is I miss you, I always
will. I wish we could be friends, the real kind. If I had it my way we’d be
back in each other’s arms. But obviously it’s not meant to be.
Love you babe, forever and always. Don’t worry nothing will
change that, cause your still my backwoods boy. Bet you don’t remember that….
Love,
Becki Ann
P.S. My beautiful pink and camo dress came, to bad I won’t
ever be able to wear it, wish I hadn’t ordered it back when.
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