I think you’re really pretty.
I used to hate thinking you were really pretty.
I used to wish you were plain; I used to wish you were boring.
I used to wish you had dead bodies in your closet or that your Instagram photos weren’t so freakin’ cute.
Because maybe then he wouldn’t have chosen you.
But a few months ago, I had a life altering realization.
And that is why I’m writing this letter.
I’ve been wanting to have this conversation with you for a while because I feel that I owe you an explanation as to why I was in love with your love for so long.
I know he’s yours now.
But he was once mine.
And we were once happy.
For six months, I was the one who lifted him up and made him feel like a little kid. I was the one racing him down sidewalks and watching him scream I love you at the top of his lungs. I was the one wearing his high school t-shirts and sleeping next to him every other night. I was making him happy.
I was his.
Because you weren’t there.
He had never said your name before.
He had no idea that you even existed.
And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy the days when you were nonexistent.
The months before I heard your name for the first time were the most beautifully tragic months I’ve ever lived through.
I remember the way he looked at me after he heard me sing for the first time. He counted how many times we made eye contact that night and it turned out to be about 30 times… We were kind of ridiculous like that.
I remember when I held his hand for the first time. We were watching a movie in my dorm room when he held his hand out and asked me to lie down next to him. I threw a pillow at his face because I was so embarrassed and shy… but after his third attempt, I took his hand anyway.
I remember when he accidentally told me he loved me almost every single day after we’d been dating for two weeks. I’d say something funny and he’d reply, “Ah… and that’s why I love you.” Then he’d run away screaming, “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT PRETEND I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING!“
I remember the moment I thought I realized he was not the guy I was going to end up with.
I remember being wrong.
I remember watching our love tailspin to rock bottom when I became insecure with the relationship and demanded unrealistic things from him.
I remember leaving him.
I remember regretting it.
I remember feeling so far away from God because I believed He had taken the only true love I’d ever experienced away from me like He was tearing skin from the bone.
I remember not leaving my bed for three months.
I remember hearing your name for the first time.
I remember crying.
I remember the bad months just as much as the good months.
And I honestly can’t tell you which ones hurt more.
I sometimes wish I would forget all the sweet facts that make up who he is as a person.
But I memorized them as I’m sure you have.
We both know he’s an introvert who tries exceptionally hard to be an extrovert. We both know he loves capes for some reason. We both know he suffers from occasional crippling anxiety. We both know how much he loves milk. We both know he loves pulling pranks but is also terrified of getting in trouble because he’s a good boy at heart. We both know that he h8s h8ers. And we both know his darling mother means more to him than either of us ever could.
We both know him fairly well.
You more so than I.
But then again, you held his hand much longer than I did.
I never so strongly believed in a love like I believed in him.
He was the one.
Not too long ago, I moved on and I now believe in a new love.
A steadier love.
And I truly believe there is more than one person out there in the world that we are meant to be with.
Because if there’s only one, then wow, we’re all screwed.
So if I’m no longer in love with him… why did I decide to write this?
Because I want you to know that I feel no resentment toward you.
And that I just really hope you make him happy.
Because that is all I ever wanted to give him.
His happiness meant more to me than my own. I was unable to give him the happiness he needed.
And it almost killed me.
But I hope in the end everything works out better for you.
And I hope you get to be with the love of our lives because you really do deserve to be happy.
I hope that if you ever decide to leave, he’ll love you enough to stop you at the door and kiss you until you decide to stay.
I hope you turn around and promise that you’ll never leave his side.
I hope you don’t make the same mistake I did.
I hope you stay.
Because one of us has to.
And it’s much too late for me.
I hope your love lasts much longer than ours ever did, and I hope you don’t see me as his ex-love who is resentful because I no longer carry his heart around.
I’m merely the girl who was meant to love him right before you came along.
And even though I didn’t know that for a very very long time (I may not have known it until I finished writing this letter), I know it now. And it’s a role I’m not ashamed to play.
Because at least I got him for six months.
At least I had enough time to memorize him completely.
At least I have his love safe in my heart so I can revisit it whenever I miss him.
I do miss him.
A lot sometimes.
But I’m always reassured with the beautiful fact that he has you.
And you won’t leave him.
And that is why I wrote this for you.
Because I think you’re really pretty, and I think it may in fact be forever between you two.
And if you were meant to be his life long love story,
Then I’m just happy to be the prologue.
The girl he loved before you
Facebook – Becca Tremmel
Instagram – @littlelionbecca
Twitter – @beccatremmel