March 28, 2003
March If Project
The most simple answer I can give is nothing. Because I�m a firm believer in �everything happens for a reason� and no matter how much I�d like to go back in time and change certain moments, I wouldn�t do it. Not for the world. The potential of those few words leading me down paths that I couldn�t even began to imagine - potentially horrible paths - is too great.
That said, there are things I have wondered about. Wished for in a superficial, careless sort of way.
Lost: I wish I hadn�t broken up with him the way I did. I wish I hadn�t pushed him away when I needed him the most. I wish I hadn�t been so proud. I wish I hadn�t been so cold. I wish I hadn�t hurt him and avoided him. I wish I had been more understanding. I wish that things were different.
So what would I take back? Everything I said to him the day I came back from Texas. Everything I said in the week that followed my return.
Because we had sex the day before I left. My first time. His first time. And then I went away for a week. The day I got back I found him waiting for me. He said my mom had asked him to pick me up because my grandfather had died a few hours before. And I just nodded and got into the car. Even though he tried to hug me. Even though I was screaming inside. He wasn�t just a grandparent you see. He had been like a father to me ever since my real dad died. And then I lost him too.
Lost drove me home in silence. And when we arrived I said thank you and sent him away. Because I wanted to be alone with my pain. And when he pushed the issue I grew cold, distant. A few days later I broke up with him. Not because he did something wrong, but rather because I felt suffocated by his constant need to be there for me. He even offered to re-schedule his 18th birthday party in order to go to the funeral with me. And I broke up with him. How fucked up is that? I still feel guilty about it. I still hate myself for doing that to him.
Because he was never anything short of amazing.
So what would I go back and say? Everything.
I would tell him what a wonderful person he is. I would tell him how much all those little things he did for me meant. He was the type of boy who would drive an hour across town to bring me roses [because I was depressed] and French fries [because I hadn�t eaten in two or three days]. The type of boy who would stand in the cemetery in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain, because being there made me feel better. He was amazing and I never told him that. I wish I had, because god knows I can�t say it now.
[[ Link, I don�t know if you have internet access in North Carolina or wherever it is you ran off to this time, but when you read this, call me. I wouldn�t ask if it weren�t important.]]
7:37 p.m.