The One That Got Away

A story in the form of a letter I wrote three years ago to a boy I liked. He never got to read it.

I don’t remember much that happened that day, but I do remember f*****g everything up. That’s what I always do, I always have and probably always will. For months I can want for someone, crave them like a newfound drug, and then when I have them, I’ll discard of them like I never wanted them in the first place. I’m sorry.

I was almost done with school, only a few days left, and I’d be going to a different one. That’s how I’ve always been. when I start one thing new, I need everything to be new. Or else it doesn’t feel special. I’ll discard of friends, clothes, makeup, hair and boys if it means getting a new start. 

I remember the day we were doing our test exams. I had to go to the beach to get some new pictures for my picture-portfolio, so I mastered up the courage to ask if anyone in the room wanted to join me. Only you said yes. I remember something deep inside me cheering, although i hadn’t fallen in love with you yet. 

You grabbed your jacket and your camera. The walk to the beach was mostly silent, but I didn’t mind. We small talked about random things, pets and school mostly. When we arrived, a wave of rain hit, so we ran under the roof of a public building. You lit your cigarette, and we just stood there, waiting for the rain to stop pouring. I watched you, I don’t think you noticed, but I did. I was intrigued by your dark look, and the fact that you were the nicest guy I’d ever met. It was an amazing contrast of appearance and personality. I didn’t know yet. 

The rain stopped, so we went to the edge of the beach, the water almost hitting our feet. I remember you picked up a brown long stick of tare, we both thought it looked a little like a penis. We laughed. When we reached the middle of the beach I turned to you to ask you why you weren’t taking any pictures. I remember your words as if you had just spoken them. «I’m done with my pictures» my heart dropped as you said it. It was raining outside, yet you chose to come with me, instead of sitting inside the warm classroom. I was beyond flattered, and i felt a temporary crush coming on. 

I used to get a lot of those. They say if you don’t have a male figure in your life as a kid, you tend to fall for anyone giving you any attention at all. I suppose i’m lucky like that, at least I only have temporary crushes, nothing long lasting. 

We kept walking, laughing as we went along the shore line. It was nice talking to you, you made me laugh a lot. Nobody ever made me laugh. Sure, I’d grin if I thought that would make them give me attention -daddy issues-, but with you, I wasn’t pretending. 

We quickly reached the end of the beach. It was nice out there, no one around. School further away. It was just us. The clock told us we had to go back though, so we did. I didn’t like going back, and I remember my friends commenting about where I’d been. I still don’t know if they disliked me getting involved with you, they probably did. I was the slightly loud, insecure girl who’d give anyone attention if they paid me any, and you were the quiet, nice guy everyone loved. Sort of an odd match, I guess. 

The days after that is a blur, but I remember we talked a lot more. We were on Skype together, too. Hours I’d spend laughing at the things you told me, the pictures you showed me. Talking with you made me want to come to school. Any time i’d get to see you i gladly showed up. 

The last few days of school, I remember staring at you, wanting to say something but not being able to find the words I needed. I tried staying as close to you as possible; if you were inside, I’d be inside. if you were outside, i’d be there too. 

School ended, and on the last day I wanted to hug you, but I couldn’t find you. Later you told me you’d left early, which was a bit disappointing, but I figured I’d see you soon anyway. I did. our Skype sessions continued, and I loved every second of them. 

In July, I invited you over to hang out with me and my friend. It was 2am, but I was home alone. I’d just had a cigarette when i wrote you, and I remember regretting it immediately after my cigarette was out. Not because I didn’t want you to come over, but because I was terrified what would happen. I was in my room, choosing clothes to wear when you called. «I’m here». I panicked, and threw on the first clothes i could find; a black hoodie and a pair of jeans. 

We walked up the stairs to the living room, and as we entered I cursed at myself for lighting all the candles. It felt cute at first, but when you got here, I realized it wasn’t. We sat down in the sofa, chatting lightly about school and the work you’d acquired over the summer. I was impressed. 

My friend stayed inside as we went out to grab a cigarette. I didn’t smoke, I was too embarrassed to do it in front of you. I don’t quite remember what we talked about, but I do remember playfully arguing about you growing a beard. I didn’t want you to. 

You left about two hours after you’d arrived. We went downstairs alone, and you said goodbye. But you didn’t offer a hug, so I was disappointed. I figured you were just too shy to, so I brushed it off, although parts of me started to doubt everything. I was doubting whether you were attracted to me at all, of if it was all in my head. The doubt made me upset, and I decided I didn’t like you after all. although I did, so much. 

We didn’t speak immediately after that, I guess we both needed time to process. I was a ticking bomb, waiting for something to trigger me. I remember I was scrolling though my Facebook feed, when something you’d liked popped up on my wall. «Kill it before it lays eggs» was written on a picture of a 5 year old girl with a deformity disease. That was the trigger. I wrote to you immediately. Yelling at you that it was immature. We argued for a while, you trying to defend the picture, but when you figured you weren’t getting anywhere in explaining, you removed it. 

We didn’t speak for a while after that, but I remember not wanting to either. I was so mad at you. Suddenly it had been too long, and I felt weird about talking to you, so I didn’t. 

I didn’t realize before it was too late. I’ve tried getting a conversation going, but you don’t seem interested. I don’t blame you. 

I didn’t know back then, but I do now. 

You’d forever be the one that got away. 

Author's Note

I wrote this in 2012 when I was 17. Therefore the grammar might not be the best. I like to think I've improved my writing immensely since then, but that might just be my opinion.