Dear Andy

Dear Andy,

If you’ve ever believed you could take me seriously, take me seriously now. Because I have spent so long thinking of ways to communicate my thoughts with you that it’d hurt to know that you didn’t believe I was serious. Just because I’m younger than you, doesn’t mean I can’t know or feel the same things.

Do you remember the first time I met you? I do. I remember it like it was yesterday. I snuck out of my house, turned off my phone and practically ran all the way from my estate to Clockworks. And I didn’t know anyone but Richard back then. I was risking angering my dad just because he had asked me to come down to the gig. I was wearing my black and pink ‘retro’ Dorothy Perkins dress, black tights and black dolly shoes. And I walked around the block three times to calm my nerves because I thought I was going to get IDed at the door and not get it. That didn’t happen. Could you imagine if it had?
I was talking to Richard when you walked up and hugged me from behind. For the rest of the night, you kept appearing at my side and offering me cigarettes. You could still smoke inside in those days.

I didn’t see you again for ages after that, although we still spoke every now and then.

The next time I saw you was ‘Woodstockstock’. The gig at the Dry Bar. ‘That fateful night’ I believe the story book phrase is. None of you recognised me with my bleached blonde hair and slightly improved sense of fashion. I was also more confident; after all, I had just spent all summer getting into bars I wasn’t supposed to be in. It didn’t matter though, because you cottoned on quick, and we were soon laughing and joking and having a good time, like we were supposed to. Then we all headed back to what is now more commonly known as Chez Karma. It was the first after party there ever. I’m sure we pissed off the neighbours. I don’t think I really need to remind you about what happened that night, but I would like to remind you of a snippet of conversation that happened whilst I was sleepily curled up in your lap on the sofa. By this point our exchange has been reduced to whispers, and you said to me, “you’re too cute”. I responded typically, embarrassed blush, quick mutter of “no I’m not”, but then you went on to say: “remember, too much is not enough.”

Now, as sad as it is that you quoted your own lyrics tome, that little whisper, that long forgotten phrase has stayed with me all this time, because I felt something I had never felt before.

Of course, I can’t remember that without remembering what happened next. You cast me aside. Via myspace. And it hurt, because then I experienced another feeling I had never felt before. The feeling of being used. I hadn’t learnt how to deal with being played yet. That’s one thing I learnt from you.

But, true to form, I decided I was going to bounce back, better than ever, because I was going to show you that I didn’t care. So I turned up at your next gig, the first Hope and Anchor night, full of bravado. I had my two best friends at my side, who were willing to back me up no matter what happened. But the moment I saw you, that anger, that attitude, that ‘I’ll show him’ all melted away, and I was just a bundle of nerves that had been hurt. That’s why I was sick that night. My entire body had given up on me, refusing to let me be strong.

It didn’t take you long to get back into my affections though. Remember Christmas? God, that day changed me forever. Because I can’t go back to the way I was before that day. I can’t go back to caring about you but being ‘able to do perfectly well without you, thank you very much’. And the funny thing is, what happened didn’t even happen while I was sitting there with you. It was when I got home and just sat on my own, in my room with my music on, unable to chase thoughts of you away that I fell in love with you.

We went on, dipping in and out of each others lives. But I still held my little memories and my big feelings close to my heart, because I was learning how to be close to you without being hurt by you just being you.

Nothing changed for a while, and although on a couple of occasions we tumbled back into each others arms, most of the time we danced a merry dance, circling each other and avoiding all the things we probably should have said. Then, another night came along that was set to change my life a little more.

March 13th. I had just got back from my training course for work, and you guys were playing at the Grand Union that night. I was all smarted and glammed up as I had been meeting the most senior boss of Millward Brown UK that day, and hadn’t had time to change. So off I went to the Grand Union to watch my favourite boys play their music. That was the night I met Amanda. That was the night she cornered you in an alleyway, desperate for your attention. That was the night you said I saved you, just by being there, and calling you names I didn’t mean. That was the night you said you would marry me when I turned twenty five.

There’s a small part of me that is still desperately holding onto that promise, that deal… we shook hands on it, like two businessmen trading product for money. I still, to this day, don’t know whether or not you were serious that night. I suppose I wait seven years and find out. Maybe you will come and find me, wherever my whirlwind life has decided to take me.

To me, things got better from there. We were so close, such good friends, and I trusted you so much. I planned for your birthday, I spent more than I should’ve getting you tickets to the show you had told me you wanted to see months before. I took you out, and we had a night where no one else mattered but me and you. I can’t listen to Frankie Valli’s music in the same way anymore; it just makes me think of you.

And then, she came along.

Now, I have never ever wanted to hate someone more than I wanted, tried, begged myself to hate Len on the night you told me you had a girlfriend. And for a short while, I did. I refused to try and be friends with her. I refused to get to know her. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was losing you, and it was all because of her. I was hating her, but I was hating myself the most for being so horrid and bitter.

So, with great difficulty, I tried to let it go. And I found out that she is a wonderful, beautiful, smart, funny, strong, amazing girl. And I am still, to this day, painfully jealous of her. Not just for having you, but for being everything I can’t be. She is a better person than me. There’s nothing I can do about that.

When we went to T in the Park, it seemed like just for a weekend, I could forget about you and her, I could forget that you were taken, and things seemed to be just the way they were before she came into your life. I loved being able to stand with your arm around me, or curling up on you chest while Rich serenaded us (very badly) with stupid love songs. But we had to come home, and that weekend long illusion slipped away.

Not the longest time ago, I had a talk with you, about the fact that you were plaguing me. And you basically told me, I was never going to win. That’s when my heart broke. I felt it happen. I felt my world crumble around me, and nothing could put it back to what it had been.

I then had a very similar chat with Len. And she hadn’t the faintest clue that I was so into you. So hung up on you. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I still did, still do, have feelings for you. I couldn’t even use the word love. She told me how you still needed me; how I was still a part of your life, but it’s just not true. Because you don’t need me. At least, not the way you needed me before. I hardly ever talk to you now. In fact, the only time I do is at gigs. Our friendship is in tatters and I can’t think of anyway to save it. So I think I’m ending it. And I’m sorry.

I don’t expect sympathy, or empathy, or comfort, or… anything really. I just wanted you to know the truth.

I’m not coming to gigs anymore. Because I’m not okay. And I need to be okay. This letter, these words, they’re not going to be the cause of me losing you, because I’ve already lost you. And, whatever you may think of me at this point, know this. This is me being sensible and level headed, and controlled. Because I’ve written you many letters and many poems and many songs. I’ve tried to reach out to you with words many times, and never been able to follow through, because when I read over it in a sombre state, it sounds completely ridiculous.

This has been a very long time coming. I don’t dislike you. I might always love you. I don’t know how I’ll feel in the proverbial tomorrow. But, once, in one of the many letters I wrote, even though you didn’t see it, I promised you that if you found someone, I’d eventually grit my teeth, wish you every happiness, and walk away. Consider this me walking away.

Maybe one day, I’ll look back at this situation and smile, because the majority of it is happy memories. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to listen to ‘you’re just too good to be true’ and not instantly be transported back to the one night you were all mine.
Maybe one day, we’ll have something pulling us back together again.

But for now, I’m leaving you with all the love in my heart, as I learn how to be a stronger person from a situation that’s involved you. Again.

I love you Andy. Andrew. Mr Hill.

Too much is enough.

Today, still yours, but maybe not tomorrow.

With love

Suzi
xx.