Short Stories II

Letter to Heron

Heron,

These days I find myself reminiscing over the shared interests that we used to experience together. I find myself comforted by your inclination to music that moves me, music that takes me far away from the spot in which I stand today, music that perfectly encapsulates the way that I looked at you back then. I relish in the warmth of being situated within the music that you chose for us to enjoy, and the blissful excitement that erupted when I introduced you to my own musical world. I'm taken aback to the very beginning of our relationship, when I showed you the playlist of songs that spoke the words of my history in a brighter light than I could insinuate myself. I remember that spark of interest that enlightened when you learned of who I was, simply from the taste at which I acquired for music. I remember, more nights than I can count, of finding myself stationed in your mom's car while we allowed the enticing arms of song to engulf us entirely. In a generalized organization of thought, I remember living and breathing the story lines of various video games with you, fascinated by the things in which it had to offer me, softened by your presence as you allowed me to rest my fatigued mind on your shoulder. It was the lengthy hours of submergence into an anime, the time spent laughing endlessly at some comedy skit, our in depth conversations regarding love, life, music, and the brief pauses for tickles, delicate nose kisses, the nuzzle of my head into the nape of your neck...

I miss your eyes solely being on me. I miss the naive belief that your attention was unwavering, and the trust that I plastered so securely to you. I miss the intricately painted pedestal I fastened your body to, and despite your cowardly figure falling limply from it, I find myself searching the scattered pieces of you that still remain tangible. I miss climbing the pedestal to sit alongside you, basking in the sweltering warmth that our love provided to me, oblivious to clear signs of disloyalty and manipulation. I miss the days in which, atop this pedestal, you pointed out the vast broadening of the horizons, stretching farther beyond what my peripheral vision could ever muster before. I remember that quiet breath against my ear, feeding me words and appraisal that now must be questioned because of what you've done. Regardless of how much love emits from my small being, no matter the remaining essence of love situated deeply inside of you, there is no rekindling of the broken pedestal. You have fallen, too severely to be retrieved even by me, who has already suffered the infliction of your scattered shards. I am left with little choice but to leave you. Fortunately though, this is what you wanted all along. To lose yourself in the grips of another woman, to be carried off like a meek, little child, and to be nourished by a taste that has never been delivered to you before. One that I, for a year and a half, provided earnestly by hands already wilting from the excessive baggage it had already been lifting.

You broke me. I hope that one day, you become safely secure in who you are as a person. As the person I fell deeply in love with, and as the person who opened me up to the essence of emotional connection and vulnerability. I want to thank you sincerely for the advancements you've enabled me to achieve in my growth. However, alongside this graciousness, I hope that one day you understand the way in which you hurt me. I hope that you look back on who I was, who I continue to grow to be, and feel nothing but remorse for the damage inflicted upon the most pure bud that you could blossom in your lifetime. I hope that that sadness, that regret, that grief, I hope that it follows you wherever you go until you finally become the man I know that you can be. I believe in you, likely too much considering everything that has happened. Know that no matter what, I will be here for you.

Sincerely, the one you once loved.