I don’t know what we are. Somedays we’re more than friends, somedays we’re just friends, and somedays, we’re strangers.
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I don’t know what we are. Somedays we’re more than friends, somedays we’re just friends, and somedays, we’re strangers.
Having to let someone go and forcing yourself to back away from them, even only a little bit, is so very difficult. Letting go is painful.
Sometimes we love more than one person. We’re caught up into both their lives and neither is better than the other.
Sometimes we have to choose. Sometimes it’s the matter of ‘who do I continue to love’, sometimes it’s the matter of ‘I can’t choose, I can’t let either go.”
Stories Of You
I’m so glad we met up the next morning in Paris before going on to Switzerland. We took a selfie or too, shared phone numbers with each other, and just enjoyed each other’s company as we awaited our separation. Your bus left first and although I was disappointed, I spent time with people on my bus before we were leaving.
After my bus was ready to go and on the way to Switzerland, we started texting back and forth. Unfortunately, you fell asleep, so we were a little cut short. I didn’t mind. We made plans for the next day to go on a walk around Crans-Montana in the morning before breakfast. That was what I looked forward too. Today was jus traveling, and since you were sleeping, I was left staring out the window, imagining what it would have been like had you been in my bus or I had been on yours. I wished you were beside me.
We talked off and on through the trip, pretty much only when we stopped at a station or if you happened to be awake. Every second that I had the chance to text you or even better, speak with you, made me so happy. All I was looking forward to was our walk the next morning.
Stories Of You
I remember the day I met you clear as day. We were in Fontainebleau, France. You were sitting next to two girls on my bus, praying though we didn’t know it at the time. You and a few other guys were messing with them and telling them the wrong names, but when I came along, you told me your name right away. The girls were angry in a playful sort of way. We talked some. About Europe and home and music and little things like that. Then you had to go back to Paris and my group was soon to follow. You gave me, only me, your Snapchat before you left and all throughout dinner I thought of you. I wanted to see you again so badly.
Finally, dinner was over and we were headed back to Paris again. A few girls and I were planning on having a photo shoot that night before leaving France, maybe a few stunts as well, but we needed a photographer. I thought of you immediately and texted you, hoping your reply would be yes. It was. You came down to the lobby of the hotel we were staying in. The girls and I had been out on the hotel grounds, messing around and what not. A girl on the grounds offered to take photos for us before you showed up. You came and I was filled with warmth, knowing I got to see you again.
Our photo shoot continued, although you didnt get to be our photographer, and you almost left, but for some reason, you stayed. I enjoyed your company. I one thing I remember very clearly is commenting on your necklace. It was a cross necklace. I found out you believed in God, and we talked about religion. It was a great time.
Finally, the girls and I were finished and we were all headed back to our rooms. I learned that you were on the 17th floor. The elevator at the hotel wasn’t working either. I felt terrible that I had made you come all this way and not totally be a part of the goings on, so I offered to walk up with you.
You made fun of me on the way up. I was out of shape, and we both knew it. But I was content to be with you, even though I’d known you less than a day. We walked up all 17 flights of stairs, even though my room was 3 levels before. I remember standing outside the for to get onto the 17th floor, both of us not wanting to say goodbye yet. I walked down the stairs to my floor slowly, thinking about you.
I have to laugh because later that night, maybe an hour later, you called me. I hate talking on the phone, I’m always so awkward, but with you, it was okay. I wanted to never stop talking to you. I still don’t want to stop talking with you.
I miss you.
I have such wonderful stories of you. I don’t want to forget any of them, but at the same time, I don’t want to write them down, for fear that someone else will see it and it will no longer be a memory between the two of us. Oh how I miss you. How I want to drive all the way to where you are and hug you forever.
I miss you.