I will be in the best place of my life.
Piecing together the fragments of my shattered heart,
holding on to the quiet hope that love will someday find me.

It will be a few months into a new year,
full of new beginnings, full of possibility.
Everything in my life will start to fall into place—
school, work, friends,
finally letting go of the shadows from my past.

We will spend hours talking, getting to know each other,
sharing dreams of little cottages, daily routines,
discovering both our similarities and our differences.
I will open myself to you completely.
We will plan a trip just a week after our first conversation.

We will click instantly.
A kiss will ignite something deep inside,
something I’ve never felt before.
You will tell me you can love me better than anyone ever has.
We will grow closer every day.
When we cannot be together, we will make up for it on Skype.

For a fleeting moment, I will realize how much I want this—
how truly happy I am—and my fears will almost ruin it,
but I won’t let them. I am stronger than that.

You will not need me, and I will secretly feel insecure,
because I’ve never wanted anyone this much.
You won’t see it, but I will need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone.

You will confess, “My normal fear is letting go, being destroyed…being left. But with you? Oh god…that you were made for me.”
My heart will skip a beat because I feel the same way.

Soulmates, past lives, something I cannot explain—
how could this feel so intense so quickly?

You will send me songs and lyrics, telling me how they remind you of me.
You will tell me you missed me ten minutes after I leave.
You will make videos of yourself dancing and singing.
We will make magic together,
and I will tell you I am falling in love.
We will dance, see local bands, and I will feel safe with you.

I will think we are on the same page.
My gut will warn me otherwise,
but you will whisper, “Believe in me just a little.”
And I will.

Then, slowly, you will begin to push me away.
You will get me to open up,
to share my life and my heart,
only to withdraw when I need you most.

We will miss each other.
We will make plans to meet, only for you to cancel.
You will tell me you cannot do this anymore,
that intimacy terrifies you,
and panic will drive you to run.

You will start exaggerating my flaws—my intelligence, my appearance, my morals—
and I will feel sick, wondering if that’s why you pulled away.
I will cry myself to sleep, missing you,
mourning what we will never have.
I will stare at my phone, hoping for a call, a text,
a sign that you’ve changed your mind.
But you never will.

I will spend time with my friends,
trying to move on, laughing, finding moments of joy.
Even so, you will remain in my heart,
in my dreams, in the quiet spaces where I still want you.

I will convince myself that you don’t think of me anymore,
that I wasn’t special to you.
Yet somewhere, one hundred thirty-six miles away,
you will still hold my heart.

Just six weeks after feeling as if we had known each other in a past life,
I will convince everyone I am over you.
And yet, tears will fill my eyes
as I write a story about you that you will never read.

JMS