Kelly Cunningham

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I don’t know why I’m crying. I hated you for so long and it hurts to admit that at times I’d even told you that I wished you would die. Haven’t seen you in over a year, and every time I did, I thought I wanted nothing to do with you. Now that you’re gone, all I can think about is how bad that I wish you weren’t. You beat me, broke my fucking jaw, cheated, lied, drove us both down Big Hollow rd at 120 mph threatening to kill us when I tried to break up with you; but all fucked up bullshit aside, I know you also loved me more than anyone else ever has. I’ve to this day not been able to sustain a relationship with someone- friend or lover- for more than several months before one of us would either get sick of the other or simply lose interest. After we parted I was jaded. There were times when I thought that I had found love, but the feelings were not often reciprocated, definitely no where near the love showed for me, fucked up as we both were. You were my longest relationship and first love. The first time we broke up, I remember wanting to die. Looking back in the years that followed, I think in some fucked up way I liked having you beg for me to come back to you constantly; like no matter what else happened or who else broke my heart, there would always be one person who would love me forever. It was comforting. When you would hide in the bushes outside my house and knock on my window at night with flowers and presents, waiting for me to come home from work, I remember thinking you so fucking insane, and yet simultaneously, so fucking romantic. To this day, the feeling in my gut when I found out that you cheated with that annoying bitch (Shanon Kordak I fucking hate you) is still fresh in my memory. I feel like this is all my fault somehow. Maybe not directly, but still I feel I could have done something to prevent it. Maybe if we would have gotten married when we ran off to Florida we could have been together forever, although at 17 I doubt I could have ever convinced my parents to give their consent. Especially since I had been forbidden to see or talk to for 5 months at that point. I still have the ring. Wearing it right now. Why the fuck can I not stop crying? I wish I believed in god, or an afterlife, and that you could in some way be watching or with me, or when I die we would see each other again. I can’t believe how long you tried to keep in touch for. Even after I was so mean, told you never to call again; every year you would still wish me a happy birthday, merry Christmas, send me letters and thoughtful gifts. I gave the crystal building set you sent me for my birthday when I told you I was studying geology to my nephew. Remember when we found out that my sister was pregnant? He’s 7 now. I don’t think the Strokes cd you sent from Hawaii is coming out of the stereo in my car anytime soon. Control. Need to find that letter. I kept most of them. Reading the sweet things you wrote every so often seemed to give me some hope that there were still a few romantics left in the world, even if mine happened to be a borderline schizophrenic alcoholic. Still can’t believe you took the fall for me when I crashed my car. So drunk. “Just be cool, like the Fonz!” Not many people would have done that, or at least nobody else I’ve known would have… I wish things would have turned out different. I hated you for breaking my heart. But right now there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to have you back and hug you one last time. Maybe I’m scared I’ll never find someone that loved me as much as you did, or someone that I can love back as much as I loved you. You were truly one of a kind and you will be missed.

I’m sorry, I love you too.

03/20/2008
For Granted