Tell Me. .

I don't like thinking of you. It's hard to look back on our memories and not cry even though it's been three years. But I can't help myself. I know I can't. How can I be expected to keep my head on straight when you have treated me the way you do?? I feel embarrassed visiting my best friend. My best friend. That just happens to be your cousin, go figure. A cousin who was all for it when we decided to give "us" a try.
We never should have let that happen. We knew how it would end. You knew it would end and still you chased after me. Maybe it was the fact that you treated me as a girl when I'm no more than a guy with boobs to everyone else. Or maybe it's because, for the first time in my life, I felt like I was needed by someone. Loved by someone. Not some high school crush or an obsession that turned to stalking, but loved. To know that you gave me that. . . I'm not sure whether to be happy or sad. I'm not sure whether to be angry or to hate you or to keep trying to salvage the friendship you claimed we could always fall back on. I just know that, now, after all that's happened, I don't love you anymore.
How was I supposed to deal with it all? How was I supposed to know what it was like to wait for two years while you went on a Mission for a religion I have nothing to do with? How was I supposed to know that, while saying "I love you", you were whispering that we would never be together? Not because time pulled us apart or because we didn't try, but because you never had any expectations of spending your life with me. You made me dream - something I had never allowed myself before. How could I when there was nothing to dream about? I wasn't your typical girl that planned her wedding when she was young or dreamed of falling in love like a princess or like some movie. . But you turned me into that. For once in my life, I had allowed myself a luxury I should have kept locked away, because now I'm stuck here, still picking up the shattered remains of my heart while you continue on with yours in tact.
Why tell me you love me only to follow up by saying that, unless I conformed to your society, your rules, your restrictions and religion, you would never even think of a future with me? Why bother at all then? Why grovel with a sixteen-page letter of apology after our first official breakup, which couldn't even be called a breakup because you never gave me the title of "lover" before you left. I was fine after you left. I was ready to start anew and get over you. Having not heard the words "I love you" whisper once across your lips, I was content to know that it was just a fling for you. That this was my one-sided love. I was content in going back to being friends without having to worry about all the mess that came out of a long-distance relationship.
But you. . You had to write me. That one letter that turned everything on its head again almost four months after you had gone. That letter that, though it's tucked away in a box in my closet, I still can remember almost word-for word. That letter that asked for forgiveness and begged vaguely for something more. How could I not reply to you? You, who I understood and cared for.
And so my reply went, asking what it was you wanted from me. I had given you everything; My heart, my life if you had wanted it. I had bared my soul to you, told you my darkest secrets and deepest fears. Hoping somehow it might bring us closer. And I suppose it did, for a time. And even after you emailed me that you loved me, you wanted me to wait, I held on to that hope. But it wasn't enough, was it?
After email upon email of you telling me to date other guys while you were away, that you would never consider marriage outside your religion, that you (though you claim to love me) wish for me to wait, be patient, and change who I was, what else could I have done? What did you think would happen? Did you think that I, even with an IQ over 140, wouldn't stumble or stop in frustration as I came to that fork in the road? Did you think that willingly I would change my entire being to suit your tastes just so we could stay together? How could you ask that of me? And even if you never asked directly, you pushed me closer towards your path, guiding me as if a lamb to slaughter, claiming that we could be together if only I was the same as you. How could I not be confused, frustrated, angry, hurt or alarmed? And all the while, you were telling me to date other men, pushing me to their arms as if it didn't go against everything I believed in.
But for a moment I faltered under your pressure. For a month I succumbed to the oppressive air you weighed upon my shoulders, hoping, somehow, I would receive the reward you dangled in front of my nose if I tried. And I did try. I tried to keep things calm and honest. I didn't keep any secrets - from you or them. I tried so hard to please you, telling you I loved you the most, no matter what. Promising that this wasn't working and I didn't want anyone other than you. And still you wanted more, as if my love for you wasn't enough, when before you had left, that was all you ever wanted.
So tell me: Now that you're back, now that you know there are no traces left of you in my heart except for the bitter reminders of what I will never do again, now that I can face you without a shred of guilt, why is it that you can't look me in the eye? Why is it that when I smile your way in friendship, you turn your eyes on me with scorn? Why is it that if I walk into a room and you just happened to be there too, a heavy air falls down upon my shoulders again? Why do you make me feel unwelcome when you used to open your arms so lovingly? Why am I, the one who was hurt so much I was forced to say goodbye only to ask if you still loved me, sitting here thinking of you, still trying to sort through my feelings, when I know you don't give me even the smallest thought? Why are you trying so hard to keep your distance? And how am I supposed to feel? Tell me, because I would really like to know. Should I hate you after all you've done, be angry and bitter because of what is and isn't left? Or should I, the one who wants to find a peace between us somehow, give up and treat you the way you're treating me now: as if you're nothing but a nostalgic sunbeam that can never be approached and deserves no more than a passing glance?