subject line: you were always across the counter and now you're not


an ice skating rink in florida 

I’m skating again, but this time the skates are ankle weights and I feel childishly stupid. You’re not here; I haven’t seen you in a month and a half and by now my crushes have usually passed away like a balloon escaping from a child’s hand. But I’m still crying, “I think he’s the one that got away,” to my friend.

”He can’t be the one that got away if you never had him in the first place,” she reminds me. And I guess it’s true that I never really had you, but I wanted so desperately to believe you were mine. I wanted to believe that our lunch dates and inside jokes and frequent smiles equated something more than just friends. I wanted to cling to that fact that you liked those photos I was tagged in and that you came to parties even though I was the only one you knew there. I see your name on the Facebook messages sidebar every night and every night I think “What’s the worst that could happen if I message you?”. But I don’t know what I would say. “Hey, haven’t seen you in month and you broke my heart and you probably don’t even know that, but how’s life?”

I still find fragments of you when “I Should’ve Known Better” by Sufjan Stevens comes up on my Spotify. And my friends tell me that I should go after you, but I’m held back by a fear that you’re the player I thought you were the first time I met you and you would crush me with your confidence. My mind ricochets between “He just wants to be friends” and “He’s in love with me” and that’s a terrible place to be. When my mind goes to those types of places, I just start falling, falling, falling.

My mind goes back a lot to last summer when you started working with me and how I would glance over to the area you were sitting more frequently than I should’ve. How I told my friend I was going to set you up with her because you were such a nice boy. How I was too scared to talk to you and too scared that I was going to fall in love with you. How you didn’t even really know who I was until I left for a semester and came back. How I hated you because you were one of those boys that all the girls loved and yet you were still single.

It’s two months later on a Monday morning and your face is like a song that I can’t get unstuck from mind. My anxiety is back and my hands are shaking as I write this. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. And I miss the days when you were a nobody to me the way that I am to you.