To My Best Friend That I Fell In Love With, Even Though You Have No Idea
This is why I’m letting go.
I doubt that either of us knew what was in store for our futures on that spring afternoon 12 years ago when you offered me that ride. That seven minutes in heaven was only the beginning of one of the best things to happen to me.
In the years that followed, I found myself inspired by your success, amused by you as we enjoyed drinks together in several cities, and guided by the wisdom and life experience that seemed to ooze from you. You were, up until now, one of the most involved people in my life, helping me celebrate the highs and survive the lows. You were “my person.”
I felt that our reliance on each other was always mutual. I tried my best to be your rock and comfort your unrelenting anxiety while you strove to always remind me of my worth and importance in the world as I wrestled with depressive episodes. You always reached out to share when someone would hit on you while shopping; I called you every time my significant other and I had a heated fight. We always talked after important moments in our lives: job interviews, marriage proposals, work accomplishments, even amazing sex.
Perhaps that deep, intimate emotional connection is the reason why I fell in love with my best friend.
I’ve tried for nearly a decade to deny my feelings for you, but it’s time for me to come out of the shadows, to stand tall, to face my truth: my body ached for you. You have always been my forbidden fruit, delightfully tempting but prohibited unless I wanted a cursed life marked in sinful acts. It’s not that you are a demon, or even remotely horrid at all; I just knew within my soul that you and I simply could never be.
I can remember the first time I found myself being flooded with romantic feelings, drowning in sexual urge as we sat in your apartment slightly intoxicated and watching your favorite television show, Friends. I almost kissed you in the elevator that night in New Orleans, but I hesitated as we reached the next floor.
There were so many times I craved your touch, hungry for physical contact. I struggled so many times to stop myself from undressing you with my mind, fantasizing about what it would be like for your our lips and bodies to connect.
You never had to say the words, but I knew them to be true: you are a heterosexual woman, and I would never be desirable for you because I am not a man.
All I’ve ever wanted is unconditional love. I’d always found myself feeling disconnected and simply not fitting in, like a square peg trying to be rammed into a round hole, knowing it would never work. I never had someone that I felt truly loved me, whether it was sexual, familial, or platonic, I never seemed to really be adored and worthy of attention. For some reason, though, I thought that you were different; I thought you saw me for all that I am and accepted it entirely.
I learned as soon as I admitted that I identify as bisexual, though, that was not the case.
I rejected the suggestion that my admiration for you was anything more than friendly, and I’m sorry that I lied. I thought that concealing the truth would protect everyone and keep you by my side…but it never did.
I recently took a courageous step and admitted to my partner and our therapist that I committed emotional infidelity with you and would have gone through with full sexual adultery had you been game. I trembled as I spoke the words, the first I’d willingly acknowledged the feelings I had for you, a secret that I’d carried in my heart for entirely too long.
I’m desperately working towards improving my life and consistently telling the truth, so I needed to share this realization with you. I loved you entirely, so much that it hurt, and I realize now that it was unhealthy for me and for you, plus the secret made it worse. It is with writing this that I release it, my forbidden love for you. I accept what was, I can’t take it back, but it’s time to let you go.
Image via tumblr.com.
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