Dear the one that got away, his note read.
He was just a friend. An ordinary friend. Someone that I knew from a long time ago. At least long enough to make it comfortable for me to ask him all these awkward questions.
I was having one of those retrospective moments. Wondering about what if’s. So I sent him a note, or rather a quest for explanation of sorts.
Did I treat you like crap? I asked.
Was I oblivious?
Did I hurt you?
Was it true, I wondered, that I didn’t make special effort to make a place for you in my life. Or heart.
Was it true?
Like in High Fidelity, there comes a time when you wonder about the people that left.
That I left.
So he replied.
Dear the one that got away,
I don’t know what you meant by making “special effort”. None of my ordinary friends treat me the way you did. I have lots of friends in my life, but you… I don’t know anyone like you.
Yes, there was a time when you puzzled me. There’d be times when you care about me more than you cared about yourself, yet there’d be times when you forgot about me completely. Sometimes you had no reasons to do the things you do, but you did them anyway.
I was confused in the beginning, but in time I understand you.
I know it wasn’t intentional. This is just the way you are, your trademark. I really appreciated it when you gave it to me. You made me feel special that sometimes I felt like I was being a nuisance and this feeling… it ruined what was supposed to be an enjoyable journey. I got nervous because you always stunt me with the things that you do, yet you didn’t even realize what those things are, what huge impact they made me. To you it was just another ordinary day.
But to say that you are oblivious is not entirely correct. You do care about others, in fact I would say…wow. But when people get too used to the kind of treatment that you gave them, people tend to forget that you also need space. When the time comes the space that you left behind is too huge and they feel it…I feel it too.
But knowing you, that’s just the way you are. And I like you like that.
There is a song in here somewhere. About the space that you leave behind.
That I left behind.
(This too is a true story. Paraphrased because I couldn’t bear to share the original note, but true nevertheless.)