When I first met you, In August of last year, I had no clue about the events that would unfold. It was like picking up a book and reading the first word, not imagining the thousands that would follow as the story unraveled. It is hard to believe that the book had finally come to an end. I am saying goodbye. I have lived this moment so many times and said those words in so many ways. It is like the grand finale that just never seems to be final. I don’t understand why I do I, why I keep coming back to you. The closest I have come to an answer is ‘hope’. I keep hoping that the next time will be different. That all you needed was time. It never occurred to me that nothing would ever change, and if it had occurred to me I probably would not have accepted that fact. I so desperately wanted that “happy ending” out of the book that was already set to be a tragedy.

I have determined the best way to move on, the cleanest break, would come from me saying all I need to say. Like any proper analytical review I will start from the beginning. When I met you I was emotionally vulnerable, I had started the year with a rejection from the first guy I had set my mind to liking. That is not exactly something that boosts your self-esteem. I bounced back quickly enough, but I was certainly looking to be loved. When you stepped up to the plated you hit the ball out of the park on the first swing, I didn’t think, I just let myself fall for your sweet-talking flirtation and wily charm. You seemed to be the answer to my prayers. You met most of the requirements on my list, from appearance matters like height to personality matters like the ability to listen. I didn’t let myself thin about how fast it was all going. When you asked me out that first time I was more focused on the perfect way to say yes, not the fact I had only really spoken with you for three days.

I guess you could say I didn’t have my priorities straight at the time. I never seem to. I let myself get caught up in the moment, the wave. It is not until I am drowning that I start considering the result of my actions, that I let myself think logically. This time I did not sink right away though. Those first few days were heavenly. It was the relationship stolen right out of my imagination. The way the two of us bathed in the warm sunlight in senior circle. I played with your soft and wonderful hair as you dozed off, spoke or sung to me. Your compliments were constant as you showered me with affection. You held my hand the way I wanted it to be held, your hugged me the way I needed to be hugged. I did not let myself delve into thought of how little I knew you. I didn’t consider the fact you probably knew nothing about me. I just focused on the feeling of being loved, but as always I eventually found my doubts.

My first doubt came in the form of you mentioning your ex-girlfriend, if I could go back to the days when that was my only worry I would in a heartbeat. At the time though, it was a fear that made me sick with worry. I know how it feels to be merely a replacement; I went three months in a relationship in which I was known by another name. I was scared of a repeat. I felt it would be even more devastating because I was quickly finding out you were someone I never wanted to let go. I found the courage to speak to you and you put me at ease, but you also brought me to my second doubt.

Even from the start you were not ready for a relationship, At least not a relationship that was totally open. You had worries of your own from the very start. Grades, Gramps and ghosts from our past, they all lurked in the back of your mind. I could not comprehend at the time what obstacles those things would become. I remember complaining about simple things, like how much time I got to spend with you. Once again, if I could go back now I would not have complained one bit. I probably should have cherished that time more.

Then you kissed me, which is where the first real problems started. It was the first injection of poison into whatever relationship we truly had. At first the physical aspects of the relationship were innocent enough. I was perfectly content, I felt your actions were signs of love and I cherished them. As time passed though, the levels of physical interactions rose. I started to become insecure. I believe I am at fault for most of it. That day out on the lawn I challenged you; I didn’t realize just what I was getting myself into. I told you I would not be affected by anything you did. I set no rules, no boundaries – I was inviting you to do your worst. You certainly took me up on my offer and I made no effort to stop you. Once again, I just stopped swimming and let myself be taken by the wave. You even offered to stop, you gave me the chance to say no. I never took it, which is why I know that this particular problem is my fault. I cannot blame you for giving me something I wanted.

At first I was giddy; I felt like somehow your actions brought us closer to one another and strengthened our relationship. Then, delayed as always, I started thinking and the insecurities came. I feared that you would realize just how inexperienced I was and grow bored. I feared you would want me to return the favor in one way or another, something I was unprepared to do. I was scared of where the new development may lead, but I pushed that from my mind. As time went on other insecurities developed. It seemed like the times we spent just talking were diminishing. It seemed every time I saw you all you had in mind was my body, my mind felt jilted. I hated myself for believing this. After all, I was thinking too highly of myself. It wasn’t like I was brining you any real pleasure and I know for fact my body is not something extraordinary. I could not help the insecurity from being there though. I started to secretly loathe spending time alone with you because I felt I could not say no. I hated myself because I still enjoyed it; part of me even seemed to crave it. As time went on I started to feel like a slit. I was miserable, but I didn’t know how to tell you.

The last think I wanted was for you to think I was accusing you. I did not want you to think I was complaining for nothing or for you to be angry with me. I was terrified about how you would react if I told you even the start of my insecurities. So I never did. Not until after everything. I did not even try to stop you, not until after home leave. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I had missed you so much over home leave; you had been all I could think about. It was the day after we got back and all I wanted to do was spend time with you. The sun was starting to set and there was a slight chill in the air, but the grass looked inviting. I had brought along my book, Geek Love. I had a feeling you would probably doze off like you always did and then I would have something to do. I was expecting you to lie down, that way I would play with your hair. Then maybe we would talk a bit before I started to read. It was going to be perfect, as always. That is not how life works though and instead of lying down you hand found my thigh. I knew that touch well. It was a suggestive one, an inciting one. It was a touch that promised pleasure if I gave in, which I almost did. It took all my courage and strength to walk away; I was certain that when I came back it would all be okay. We would just talk it out, maybe set some stricter boundaries. I refused to let myself consider that when I did come back it would be all over.