One Year Ago

One year ago. One year ago tomorrow -- 9/19.

One year ago.

You invited me to your place.

Asked me for drinks.

Sent me a picture.

I wanted to so so badly.

To see you. To finally hear your voice. To meet your dog.

But I said no.

I said "it's probably not a good idea."

Because I knew.

I knew … even then.. even a few weeks in to knowing you .. I knew how I felt. I knew how you'd respond … because I'd seen others fall for it. The kindness, the mystery, the warmth.

And I liked you.

So I didn't want you to get into all of it... all of me.

I knew: "Every shipwrecked soul knows what it is to live without intimacy."

I knew I couldn't. And you deserved someone who could.

I could have. I could have come over. I could have held you. I could have been inside you.

But I knew what would happen.

So I didn't.

And... I thought that'd make you stop.

But you didn't.

You kept on...and on and on.

Persistent like I am.

And I didn't stop you.

Because in a day full of shit, one text from you could make me smile.

So I didn't. I kept on.

I knew it didn't make sense, but we were only texting.

Until we weren't. Until we met. Until coffee. Until the trip.

Until you had me over. Until that night. Until you stopped.

Like I knew you would.

Because of me.

I'm crying. So hard. Right now.

Every day.

I should have stopped a year ago. When you invited me.

And... and if you are hurting at all.... if what we had (and lost) causes you one ounce of pain... I'm sorry.

You were the first...the only... the one who told me it was ok to not be ok.

I'm sorry I wasn't ready... for me, yes. For you, of course... because I know who and what is out there. And it sucks. Bad.

And I … I would give you all. And ask nothing but your presence in my life in return.

I should have gone, I guess... and fucked you and been like everyone else.

But that's not right. At all.

So.

I'm glad. I'm glad you invited me.

I'm glad I said no.

I'm glad you kept on.

I'm glad we met.

I have NEVER in my life felt so much joy.

Sure, when I die...at 67 or 83 or 98 … it will seem like only one minute.

But I am more thankful for that one minute with you than you can ever know.