an overdue letter to a john.

Dear John,
I am writing you this letter because it almost makes me feel like I am talking to you. Because, let's be honest, neither of us have the guts to call. It's easier this way. Safer. And you have to be safe around me. You know that. I am a loose cannon.
Speaking of phone calls, did you ever think that the now infamous phone call placed spontaneously two years ago would land us in this mess? Okay, maybe not mess... maybe an ultra-complicated, seemingly unanswered, distance ridden enigma? I sure as hell did not. I never expected you to affect me the way you have. No one ever has. Even through all the shit we both pulled (buying those planes tickets, you telling me to cancel them, the silence, your visit... the not so kind February where we yelled a lot, the silence...), I have never once stopped thinking about you. Even when the hurt was unbearable. I guess life is funny that way. We hurt the people we care about the most because we know that they will probably stick around...
It's like a rollercoaster ride that keeps sloping up and down. A constant loop-d-loop of feelings and experiences. I have loved? Been loved? Been hurt. Recovered. Been damaged. Been repaired. I am still not sure whether I should get off or stay on. Which decision would hurt less? The jolt of the ride or feeling my feet on the ground for the first time in a long while?
It's poetic justice, or God's plan or whatever you want to call it that I am here and you are there. And that's the way it has always been. By all rights we shouldn't even know each other.
But something always brings me back to you. I can't shake it. I tried. I have kissed someone else. But the whole time I wished it was you. And if I closed my eyes tight enough, you would be there when I opened them. Like when you are little, and you think that if you wish with all your strength, the thing you most want in the world will magically appear. I think my eyes are still closed tight.
People come into your life for a reason... or so I am told. I am still figuring out why you are in mine. I thought I used to know. I am not sure about it anymore. I'm not sure about anything with you. I never have been.
I apologize for taking liberties with your silences. I am sorry for dragging you along with me through all of it. I am sorry for projecting unrealistic expectations on you. I don't regret anything. But looking back I should have played things differently. I wanted too much too fast or just more than you were willing to give. I know that now.
But you are at fault too. You never said stop. You never told me no. So I kept running. And you did too.
We were so close.
But close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.
With love,
Kat



In life, there are paths that we take. We can't see the end of this path, where it will take us. Sometimes, it is a dead end. Sometimes, it is another path or a destination. But what matters isn't where you are going, but how you got there. The journey. No matter what happens at the end.
Isn't that what life is all about? The journey. I hope so.