“It was a love that I had never really felt before”
by Dan Vega
“I Want to Write Something For You”
Fiction. Based on a True Appreciation for a Beautiful Soul.
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
Trigger Warning: our program often motivates people to discuss their trauma. If you find yourself feeling overwhelmed, please, take a step back to address emotional flashbacks and trauma before continuing to push yourself. If you are experiencing a medical emergency, call 911 or the National Suicide Hotline at (1-800) 273-8255.
I want to write something for you. I’ve wanted to for a long time. Maybe everything I write is for you, really. There is something inside you that I’ve always wanted for myself. Each reason I find for loving you—it’s a reason for loving myself. I could find that within me. Or so they say.
When you left me, you left because it’s what I needed. I needed to spread my wings and be released from the way I was imprisoning myself. I was imprisoning myself with you, because you were my safety blanket. And when you took that away from me, I was plunged into darkness, but only because you knew I would find the light.
I am a loose cannon, a half-formed whisper on the wind. And part of you was afraid of that. But something in you always gave me what I needed, whether or not I wanted it. And I want to appreciate you for that.
You were afraid that I was crazy. I was afraid of that as well. I’m no longer afraid that I’m crazy; I think that I’m meant to be just as I am. I feel a lot, and that makes me me. I feel things so strongly that I’m forced to deal with them right away. I feel these things because my heart is so open.
And that’s why I still love you, and why I will always love you.
I have this idea that my perhaps unrequited love for you means that I must end up with you. I must marry you, in that church where both of us saw each other at the end of the aisle together, with the pastor that always remembered my name. In my dream, you gave me socks with rings on them. What an odd gift.
They had rings on them and they said “always.” In that moment, I resented you, but I resented myself more. I felt that I had screwed it all up. If all had gone right, you would have given me the socks when you’d meant to. We’d still be planning on getting married.
I believed that if I loved you as much as I did, there was no other thing for it but to get married. That we were meant to be together; that I couldn’t live without you.
I can live without you. The last six months have shown me that. I can thrive without you. The last six months have shown me that. But I live in your memory. I live like this because you released me to be who I am; you gave me exactly what I needed, perhaps not even knowing that that’s what you were doing.
Do you know that you showed me my reflection? You brought out my deepest, darkest secrets. You showed me my insecurities. You challenged me, and when needed, you cheered me on. You helped me to become who I wanted to be.
You said we weren’t compatible with each other. Maybe not now. Maybe we aren’t meant to be together now.
Do you hear that part of me that still wants to be with you? I just want to rest my head on your chest, like I did the last time we were together. And there we were, lying in bed together, and you’re telling me that you’re still in love with me.
Are you still in love with me? Do you know that I’m still hopelessly in love with you?
I want to hear your music again. I want to play your music again, and have it be a source of joy for me, of shared love and a deep, unspoken connection. I want to give you something that will show you how much I love you, what you meant to me, what you’ll always mean to me, even if we can never be together, even if we can never talk again.
I want to treat you only with respect, like I wasn’t able to do in the latter part of our relationship. I wish we had been able to hold on to that beautiful, innocent appreciation for each other. I always wanted to treat you delicately because you were so precious to me. And then the part of me that was so dark, so full of pain, so irreverent—it broke that trust. The trust with myself and with you. It failed us both, and I must learn to forgive.
You brought that out in me. Something that wanted to be heard. The part that hurts those that I love the most, maybe to see how much they can take and still love me.
There’s always a point where they’ll leave you. A point where the trust is broken. A point where the journey together ends.
But all I want now is to tell you how much I love you. How much I appreciate you. How much I still want your love and appreciation. I miss you. I want you to know what you meant to me, what you still mean to me, how you’ve impacted my life. I want you to still be in my life.
How is it right that you changed my life and then you left me? How were you okay with that?
How could you leave me?