I almost loved you.
They say that almost is the saddest word in the English dictionary.
But as far as we are concerned, almost is the best word ever invented.
Oh right, it should be you and I, because we never existed anyway.

I almost loved you.
Right from the very start, I knew this wouldn’t end well.
I knew that I’d eventually have feelings for you.
And boy was I right.
Fucking right.

I almost loved you.
I liked everything about you —
your intelligence,
your sense of humor,
your interesting life stories,
your (sometimes) annoying musings,
your fear of blood,
your subtle arrogance,
your being driven,
your being supportive,
your being sweet,
your being you,
you,
you,
you.

I almost loved you.
But I’m glad I didn’t.
Because if I did, it would’ve been one heck of a mess.

I almost loved you.
But I have so much respect for you.
I knew my place.
And it’s absolutely not in your heart.

I almost loved you.
That’s why I’m mad at you.
That’s why I said what I said.
And I’m very sorry.

I almost loved you.
But I didn’t.
I didn’t.
I hope you’re proud of me now.

I didn’t love you.
But I almost did.

 

(A Letter to the Man I Almost Loved is a prose written by me, and originally posted on my personal blog bonjourania.wordpress.com.)

Published by RANIA P.