Kristin

I miss you, Kristin. I miss the connection that wasn’t forced. I miss the feeling of a fondness so natural.
I’ve spent the first half of my life looking for you, only to find you, and then let you go in a fraction of a second.
And, even if it takes the second half of my life, I’m determined to find you again.

Surrender? I won’t. I refuse to give up.
Not when I know you are still out there…somewhere…somewhere…somewhere.
Forget you? I can’t. Not when you subconsciously drift through my mind during all hours of the day.
Repeating are these moments together...unable and unwilling I am to let them go.
Why would I choose to forget? Why would I decide to quit?
Not when my fondest moments are brought alive in the middle of the night when I’m dreaming about you.

Where are you, Kristin? I’m combing the world trying to find you.
The times when I’m alone, and the times when I’m not, it is you who occupies my mind.
It’s you who I miss. It’s you who I want. It’s you who I am unable and unwilling to forget.

When I’m with another who so effortlessly desires me, it’s you who I cannot forget.
In the midst of intimacy, I crumble. 
First goes my mind, then my body, and finally my heart.
This isn’t something that I’ve prepared for.
This isn’t something that I want.
This is anything but honest.
She isn’t the one who I desire.

When I think of you, Kristin, I am left with a billion burning questions.
Our time together was brief, but we made our moments count.
The cruelness of it all…to find you, to love you, and to lose you…all in a single heartbeat.
The cruelness of it all…I never knew what I had been looking for until we fell into one another. 
I honestly never knew what I had been missing until you were there one day, but gone all of the days that followed.

For the times that are real and the ones that are forced, are we as honest as we can be?
Are we all truthful enough to recognize our differences?
Do we accept and settle because we find an attraction that we think we could make into a connection? 
Is it anything more than a simple sensation that we feel like we can make into something more?
Do we all have a passion that we leave behind?

I still dream about you, Kristin. Not as often as I did at first and certainly not as vividly, but I still wake disappointed.
Whereas once we shared laughs and jokes and hopes and dreams, now I just see a blurred shadow in the far distance.
I reach for you, but I miss. I always miss. I’m always so very far away.

Is there always that one connection that we are left wondering about?
At a certain point, do we forget them entirely and just move on?
Do we pretend that other person even ceased to exist?
Or do we just find ourselves curled up in a fetal position, years later, saddened with grief and sacked with guilt?
Are we left wondering how we could have ever let our truest passion forever slip away?

I wonder about you, Kristin. It is not nearly as often as it once was, but you are still a constant in my mind.
I wonder where you are and if you are happy.
I wonder if you are healthy and energized.
I wonder if you have ever tried to find me.
I wonder if you ever think about me at all.

Naïve we are, sometimes, when the momentary insecurity of rejection overpowers the long-lasting effects of regret.
When we do what we have to do to capture moments of connectivity, hoping that lightning will strike twice. 
But settling when it doesn’t because we feel that this is as good as it’s going to get.

I’m having trouble moving on, Kristin. These days since have been hollow and forged.
When I look around and see only substitutes and alternatives, I drop my head in agony.
And while it often hurts to be alone, I am unwilling to give an effort that is any less than my best.

The lose yourself in the moment type of feeling associated with the ability to open yourself to vulnerability.
And the undeniable susceptibility that comes with trusting someone so openly and completely.
To remorse in her heartache and to sulk in her sadness is to feel one with her.
To abandon all fronts, facades, and insecurities in favor of presenting the truest form of self to her.
 This is me, a truly imperfect version of a person. I am shredded with flaws, but my love for you shoots out of every pore.

I won’t stop looking for you, Kristin. 
My life has been filled with pitfalls and setbacks, but I’ve never felt as whole as I did during my time with you. 
Every moment since has felt like a charade, a half-hearted attempt at making nothing into something.
I would gladly surrender the immediate future if it means all of my tomorrows can be what I wish them to be.
Forced infatuations can be no more. Shut me off and erase my name from each of these matchmaking circles.
I feel like such a thief when I take away her precious time. 
I am unable to reciprocate, with any unfeigned authenticity, the words, and actions so easily given by her.
My heart beats for you and I know not how to remove you from my memory.

Not knowing how tired we were of the lives we were leading until something new and exciting appeared. 
And once we saw a glimpse of that life, we don’t know how we had lived without it this entire time. 
Unwilling to settle, lacking the desire to search for the next best choice.
As the lapse of time increases so does the wonderment.
How? When? Where? These questions and others hurled thousands of times to no one in particular.
Finding ourselves in a flailing moment and failing to appreciate it for what it is. 
Feelings of rejection seem to outweigh everything until we again find ourselves forever alone.