Red Roses, Letter 4; Dear Guy I chased


Dear Guy I chased/ She’t*,
I have a scar named after you. It’s on my right leg, right under my knee. It’s quite a long scar, about 3 cm, and it’s taking its time healing. I got it trying to walk quickly after you one night in the City. But you were too far away and you were walking way too quickly, so I walked into a pole and bled out quite a bit. That was the only time that you stopped, you paused, looked back, asked if I’m okay then continued walking. I wish someone would have stopped me and told me
that you were not worth chasing.
That this scar on my knee was only a visual interpretation of the scar that you would leave on my heart. A deep gaping scar, one that would ooze pain that would take months and months to heal.
I wish someone had told me that even when I’d point out this hurt to you, all you would do is pause, look back, and ask if I’m okay then walk out of my life, with a small insignificant apology.
I wish I’d know that my heart would take its time to heal and bleed out… a lot.
It would be unfair to label your existence in my life as only pain and heartbreak without acknowledging the many times we enjoyed each other like how we frequently had a good laugh about nothing and anything. We talked about everything from rap music to politics, from apologetics to the weather.
It would also be unfair to say that you broke my heart without me playing a part. I watched you do this to me, without taking a step back and protecting myself until it was too late. Somehow I convinced myself that we were right for each other, but I was so terribly wrong and you didn’t even fight yourself from showing your horror at this notion. When I pointed out this warped idea to you, your facial expression was enough to snap me out of this fantasy.
It took me humiliating myself to realize you were not what I thought you were. I thought we were much more than mere friends, Christian soldiers in this war. I thought we had chemistry, but you’re not even a scientist.
I thought we were a duo; that we’d make beautiful duets, but I was as wrong as the sun rising at dusk and winter coming between summer and spring. And your face showed me that fact. Your face revealed what was on my heart this whole time. It took me humiliating myself to realize that what I had felt this whole time was a lie burying the truth inside of me.
Sometimes I look back and wonder what I saw in you, what was so attractive about you? Was it how you spoke? The attention that you gave me? Why did I feel like you were pursuing me? Was it all a creation in my head? A fantasy that apparently was coming to life before my very eyes?
I’ll be honest, I struggle. I struggle now to identify what was extraordinary about you. Every time I try and come up with something my mind reminds me of how unremarkable you were. You’re a great person, I think. You’re fair, you’re moderate, you’re ordinary and there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact that’s perfect if you want to remain unmemorable. And that’s absolutely fine. I just don’t know if I can forgive myself for seeing something in you. For investing my time and emotions into a venture that would leave me bankrupt, that  would leave me gasping for air, groping in the darkness when the lights of life have been turned off.
It took me a while to think about you without expletives escaping my lips.
I remember with dread the last conversation that we had.
I remember how bad I felt saying goodbye to you for the very last time. But I also remember the relief that I’ve felt ever since.
I wish it didn’t take me as long as it did to gain the courage and proof to do what I did on that Monday before Christmas. I wish that it didn’t hurt as much as it did, but I’m glad that it hurts, because I will never make the same mistake again. Ever. I think I gave you too many chances to ‘’change’’ and unfortunately, I simultaneously gave myself too many chances to get hurt. I took something that wasn’t serious too seriously, and that’s left scars that will take a long time to heal.
I’ve hated acknowledging the beauty of these scars, these real life tattoos, but they make me even more beautiful, they make me wiser. Now, I’ll be able to spot another you from a mile away, and this time I won’t try and keep up with him, at night in the City. I won’t get my leg, or my heart hurt, trying to keep abreast with another thoughtless imbecile. At least next time, thanks to you, I won’t get that scar on my leg right under my knee and my heart will be unscathed. 

*She’t comes from the Hebrew feminine noun שאת, probably meaning ruin or devastation (Found in Lamentations 3:47 only). This feminine noun is related to the Hebrew meaning and etymology of my subject’s real name. Its meaning resonates with my experience with this person. NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH THE EXPLITIVE!


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