I wonder, as I write this, if you’ll see this. If you’re clever enough to get the fact that this is addressed to you. A part of me wants to send this to you, but I feel like I shouldn’t. I should leave it, and if by chance, you come across it, everything else that’s happened after this post will make sense.

The last few weeks that we haven’t talked have left an impression and a scar. Unlike other lapses of speaking to one another, this one feels depressing and leaves a furious rage inside me. The week after our last conversation, I figured it was just another disappearance, and that it wouldn’t be too long ’til we talked again. Thinking this, it passed my mind as nothing, but this entire time I’ve felt torn. As if something wasn’t right, which slowly waned at my ability to keep up a front.

It’s made me feel a lot of things at once: confused, frustrated, angered, disappointed, depressed, upset. All of these things that in the end, all I truly want to do is scream at the top of my lungs ’til my voice gives out. I can’t do that though, I’m in New York and there’s no corner I can run to. And for that reason, it’s made things all the more worst.

Through the seven years of knowing you, learning about you, getting close to you and, loving you…writing this stirs up so many emotions, memories and thoughts that it’s hard to write what I want to say without backing down. This last week I’ve been debating whether or not to just delete your number from my phone, get rid of you as a friend on myspace, remove you as a contact on flickr, and stop following you on twitter. I know that it’s a step forward, but to genuinely mean it and not look back it at with any regret, I lack all strength.

Why? Because the part of me that believes in you as a genuine person still wants to believe in you. Because after all the years we’ve talked and didn’t talk, I survived. Because I know that somewhere in those years, I actually fell in love with you for who you were and felt loved by you. At least, in what I believe to be love.

I loved you because you encouraged me to believe in myself when I truly didn’t know who I was or whether or not life was worth effort at all.

I loved you because you were there for me so many times when no one else was. When I was on the verge of a break down ’07 and the only person to answer their phone was you. I still smoked a pack of cigarettes after we talked, but it prevented so many other things. It gave me strength.

I loved you because you had everything that I wanted from a lover.

But to that same end, in knowing what I believe to be love, love doesn’t feel like this. Love doesn’t feel like you can’t breathe because you’re on the verge of a break down. Love doesn’t make you grab at your heart in pain. Love doesn’t make you question your own being.

It pains me to say this, but a part of me resents you for toying with me for so long. Even if it wasn’t on purpose, I know you know that you do this which means that you should be working to not do it. But you haven’t.

A part of me resents you because I had believed for a while that if I waited, you would come or that we would live together and at least give it a shot. That was never the case- something always happened at the last minute to botch everything up. That, or you just disappeared and came back with an excuse.

A part of me resents you because I let you influence a relationship, which eventually led to a horribe break-up.

But what I hate the most, is that I know I’ll continue to think about you even after I cut all ties.

To say that you haven’t influenced me at all would be an understatement. You have influenced the way I see and live life. From my music to my design, a part of you will always be there, which truthfully, I’m grateful and glad, but it really sucks. The way I think of boys, I don’t think any will be able to compare to the image that I have of the golden boy. But perhaps they don’t have to be golden. I will say this though, the one thing that pains me the most is that I think I’ve picked up your habit. And because of that, I’ve already hurt someone that was important to me.

What brings me comfort, is that I’ve acknowledged it, and that I’m going to work on getting rid of it. I don’t want to have someone tell me what I’m telling you. It would crush me, but it would snap me out of the faux-reality that you’re in.

I know I’m going to still feel lost after writing this post. But at least I’ve said something that I should’ve said a long time ago, so that none of this would have happened. But I was, and still am, naive. I just hope that by doing so, I can at least move on and focus on other aspects of life.

Sincerely,

Kristopher Louie