Chapter Text
It feels lonely.
It’s profound, it’s beautiful, it’s painful, and it’s everything. And you have no one to talk to about it. Really talk to. Even if, theoretically, in some other life, beautiful, starkly different from the one you’re living, you were ever brave enough to tell someone, and, which is an even bigger “if” they were at least understanding, they still wouldn’t fully get it. Because the pain you’re going through, it’s a pain like no other. It’s a pain that hurts just as much as it feels like heaven. It’s a death sentence, and a guaranteed one way ticket to hell, but you know you’ll give everything in the world to keep feeling it. And when you try and put it into words, well, no matter, how good a writer you are, you’ll never express all of it, in a way that would make them understand it. Them, who’ve never been through it. You’ll never put it into words, as you don’t even properly understand it.
And so, you go through it alone.
You’re lonely.
Funnily enough, you used to have someone to talk to. In fact, two people. You used to have someone you thought would always understand you, until you stopped understanding her. And then you just never talked about it. Never brought up just how much you don’t understand each other anymore, until it didn’t matter, until the only thing that mattered was dreaming of a future, together, a future both of you knew, but didn’t have the courage to say out loud, would never happen. Or, at least, it wouldn’t be for the two of you to share.
And then, you had someone else. A person. Your person. Who was always there, like a constant. You got so used to how wonderful their presence feels, like home, that you never considered those feelings anything out of ordinary. And then it slowly crept up on you, just how different it felt with him, in comparison to all your other friends. When it did, you got scared, you shut down, sinking deeper into the living embodiment of the image everyone seemed to have of you, the one that didn’t have anything to do with those big and beautiful and painful feelings, that you didn’t completely understand yourself. And you’ve made mistakes. You hurt people you care about. And you only realized why, when it was too late.
You had, used to have, a person, who would understand. Maybe even need the same understanding from you. And now he’ll never know that all this time you could provide that understanding too. If only the fog in your mind had cleared up sooner.
It’s funny, really, remembering all those things in retrospect. All those ways it should’ve been so clear all along, but you were willfully blind. It’s so funny you want to cry. But the tears stay poisonously inside, carving away at your very soul, because you don’t remember how to cry. It’s funny. You laugh instead.
And it wasn’t even always about him. You thought Han Solo was just really cool, and that’s why you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen. It’s funny now, realizing the true nature of the truly mesmerising effect he had on you. You thought that older teen, with his long hair, messy personality, the true emobodiment of chaos and alternative style you could only wish you’d ever recreate, was just a role model. It’s funny now, thinking, how he’d been a terrible role model, selling drugs, hiding, and how it didn’t mean his death was any less of a tragedy. And it’s funny how easy it was to confuse the “I want to be him” and “I want to be with him” thoughts.
It’s funny.
But, of course, the one true person, the one who could always understand, none of them could ever hold a candle to him. Really, everything about him and the friendship that you shared, it should’ve been so, so obvious. You’ve always known he’s different than your other friends. You’ve always been protective of everyone you love, of all your friends, to the point where you seemed annoying, to the point of burning bridges over very stupid things. To the point where your friends might not have totally been right, and yet, you would still be on their side, obnoxiously and loudly. Now that you think of it, you were just so lonely, this whole time, and so desperate not to be. You got lucky that you met people who wouldn’t take advantage of that so early on, and could just give them your unconditional loyalty. Funny, how it all came full circle, and now, you’re more alone than ever.
You were always loud, obnoxious and protective over all your friends. But especially him. The way he laughed when it was just the two of you, playing DnD together in your basement, the way he clung to you, always, when bullies were nearby, or when his dad came to pick him up, that was precious to you, in a way that nothing else that you shared with others, even with her, never was. This, him and you, it was always special.
And yet, when she came along, suddenly, everyone treated it like it was in the cards for the two of you to be together. Basic human decency and just simple childlike, naive kindness you expressed to her was mistaken for love at first sight. And maybe it was. Who knows, how all of this stuff even works. How can you not like girls, and boys? Or, maybe, how can you not like girls, when everything, from a fairy tale you were read at bedtime as a kid, to your friends, tell you you’re supposed to? But, how can you not love the friend you’ve known since the first day of kindergarten? And how can you know, in time, before it’s too late, no less, what kind of love it is? How can you know, for sure, if it was just everyone telling you you love her, or you genuinely did? How can you know for sure, how you felt?
But, one thing you definitely do know, now, is that love at first sight doesn’t exist. Infatuation, interest, a crush – those can all happen at first sight. But you never know, before you actually know a person.
Him, you did know. That’s why it hurt so much, all three times when you lost him. When you found her was actually the first one. Then, when they both moved away. And now, when he’s left, and you’re alone. Again. Just like you were scared to be when you were four.
Her, you also knew. But somewhere along the lines it became clear, you didn’t actually know each other. You got to know each other, yes, but at some point, you decided, you know everything there is to know, and didn’t take into consideration, how people change, over time. So, you kept knowing a version of her, that didn’t exist anymore. That didn’t need you.
Meanwhile, he said she’d always need you. You have proof of that hanging on your wall, above your typewriter. But you do know, now, the more you think about that, the more you know, that it was a lie. That was just him having too much faith in you, in a way that you never deserved. When she said goodbye to you, you felt like she wasn’t dying. Like she was merely leaving you. Like that first time that she did, when everyone thought you were crazy for thinking she’s still out there. This time, you also know, she is. But she doesn’t want to be found. Not anymore.
But this is the first time they’re both gone from your life. And you don’t know, what to do with yourself.
That leaves a mark. A stain, that you know you'll never wash away.
You’re alone.
It feels lonely.
* * *
It feels lonely.
It’s a beautiful feeling, a beautiful identity, that creates a beautiful life. Unbelievable memories, incredible euphoria, all the wonderful people around – and nobody to share it with. Nobody to understand.
It feels like even if you tried to explain, they wouldn’t get it. Even if you draw it out, which has always been easier for you, they won’t. You literally tried to explain it through a painting, gift it to the one person, who mattered the most. And it didn’t work. He is still oblivious to this day. Even though he knows how you feel, and has stayed, by some miracle, hasn't written you off, he still doesn't know the true nature of that painting. Maybe it's for the better.
It’s a beautiful feeling, a wonderful experience, and it’s… everything. You’d think you’re already over it. You’d think nobody ever could get over something like that. And you go through it all alone.
Well, maybe, not fully alone. You’ve had people, who supported you. You told everyone, even though it didn’t feel like a choice, more like torture, like you were torturing yourself, out of necessity. Because if you didn’t tell, they would’ve found out anyway, and it would've hurt even more, to hear their rejection, and not even to your face. A quiet rejection. A rejection that doesn’t even need to be verbalized in order for it to happen.
The kind of rejection he gave you. The one you cared about the most.
And now you don’t.
You don’t.
It’s in the past.
And yet, there’s no one to share it with, just how much in the past it is. Just how much strength it took, to leave it in the past.
Again, you’ve had people. First, there was this girl. And just like the rejection that didn’t need to be verbalized, she gave you an understanding, without you even needing to explain it. She saw, and she knew, because she’s like you. Only, not exactly. She was already there, at a point that seemed, in the moment, so high to you, it was unreachable. She had already told people. She was in a relationship. You were alone. Stuck in an over-friendship, not-quite-relationship. Stuck in that place where you never knew, if the line would ever be crossed. Where it was just ambiguous enough to be readable as both platonic and romantic.
Turned out to be painfully platonic.
Well, that girl, she helped. A lot. And yet, your story is not like hers. She was in a dark place, and she forced herself out of it. And the thing that helped her, was realizing that a crush doesn’t define her. She told you all that, and it helped you too.
Only the crush she let define her life at some point was a just hallway crush. She barely knew the girl. She just built up an image in her head, and didn’t even notice, how that image became the foundation of her self-worth. For her, it was necessary to accept that the crush would never be reciprocated. Accept the silent rejection.
For you it was necessary as well.
Only, this wasn’t just a crush, in your case. You told everyone it was, you keep telling yourself that. But you know, deep down, it wasn’t. It never was. It still wasn’t the greatest idea, to build your self-worth around that person. Let him become the only one who makes you feel like you’re not a mistake, like you’re better for being different. It was a great idea to find strength within you to feel like you're not a mistake, to stop needing him for that. But it’s undeniably harder to let go of that feeling, than a hallway crush, to build a new you around something else, something more solid. Because you’ve known him since you were four. Because he never gave up on you, alongside with your own family, your mother, when everyone else did. Because he promised that the two of you would go crazy together, and said that asking you to be his friend was the best thing he’s ever done. All before you even realized, what it is you feel for him.
But then, he abandoned you, for the sake of his new girlfriend. He said it wasn’t his fault you don’t like girls, when all you wanted was to grasp onto the childhood that was stolen from you, and that continued to slip away from your fingers mercilessly. You just wanted your friend back, you never wanted anything more, and he threw it in your face that you are disgusting for even being able to want more. His face became one with that of your bullies in that moment. And then, he apologized. You've forgiven him. Only for him to barely contact you, when you moved away, only to not pay you any mind, when he finally came to visit. To make you thrid-wheel at his date. And then get mad at you. For what, you still don’t get.
In the moment, you were terrified. Because, how did he find out? Surely, he’d only say “We-re friends!” in that tone, if he knew how you felt? If he knew, what were the intentions behind the painting in your bedroom, before he ever saw it. But then, years later, you think back on your interactions, and you find nothing. You gave him nothing. No reason at all to suspect you felt anything for him other than feelings of friendship. And he said so, too, he apologized for not noticing until after you told everyone.
So, what was that about?
You still don’t know.
And it doesn’t matter.
It’s in the past. You got a boyfriend, and that was another wonderful experience, that you couldn’t share with anyone. Sure, you wrote to the girl who helped you get over you “crush.” But even she doesn’t know, that it’s not just another relationship. It’s a testament to how far you’ve come, because your “crush” was always bigger than hers. You mention it to your friends, the ones who accepted you, but they can only say they’re happy for you. They don’t understand how big it is, for someone like you to find a partner. And you tell your family, who, as much as they love you, having gone through literal hell for you, multiple times, they also don’t know how big it is. Not to mention, if you told your step-dad, he’d never look at you the same way, and both you, and your mom know that. But, well, at least, he’s better than the man that calls himself your father. You try not to think about it.
And when you break up with your boyfriend, you have no one to lean on. You remember, how he, your best friend moped around for hours, when his girlfriend broke up with him, and found the sympathy he was looking for, even if it was in a form of “girls are a different species.” Even as someone, who has zero interest in girls, you felt like that was an odd thing to say, even back then, but you didn’t care that much. You just wanted to keep the remnants of the childhood slipping away near you for a little while longer. And then, you practically became a relationship guide for him in the following years. And he still fucked it up.
In a way, thank god nothing could ever happen between you two, because, Jesus Fucking Christ on a bike.
But now, you’ve broken up with your boyfriend, and you find that you have no one to lean on. Not properly. You can only write to your only other friend who is like you, and you know she’ll only say, you’ll find somebody else. You can call your mom, or even visit her, as she’s moved so much closer, but you’ll both have to speak in hushed tones, so that your step-dad doesn’t hear. You could talk to your brother, and that might be the closet you could ever get to actual support, but he’s too busy these days. And no matter who you talk to, no matter how accepting they are, you’ll still feel it.
The unspoken hope, that this might be it. That you might actually magically become normal now. They know it won’t happen. They won’t say it to your face. They’ll be sympathetic. They’ll provide a shoulder to cry on. But you’ll still feel it. The sigh of relief they hold in. Feeling that if you turn up with a girl next time, they’ll beam at you just a little bit brighter, than the time you told them about the boyfriend.
And the worst thing is that there is literally no one to understand, that you’re not even that sad. Not about him. You’re grateful for the time you’ve spent together. You’re glad you had your first boyfriend. But that’s about it. That’s just some guy. A good thing to tick off. But he didn’t mean much, not in the big picture.
Because, as much as you want it to be, nothing is in the past. He is not in the past. As much as you want him to be, you know, deep down he never will be. There will always be a hole in your heart, resembling the shape of him.
And there’s no one who will understand that in the way you need. No one will understand the stain, the mark you carry in you.
And that feels isolating.
It feels lonely.