Letter To the One that Got Away

No greeting, just straight into it. 

You are smart, wildly funny, brilliantly clever, insanely beautiful, and most importantly, driven.  As I think about this, my thoughts dart to when we met years ago.  I was obnoxious, self-centered, and not even mildly self-aware.  For some reason, however, you tolerated me, and I talked to you in a way I couldn't talk to most other people.  Brazenly using the first cliche in this already tired letter:  it was simple, we clicked.  As egotistical as it sounds, you were the first (and maybe the only so far) girl that I felt like I was on the same mental playing field with.  When I pushed, you could push back in equal force.  When I told a joke, no matter how pervy or offensive it was, you could consistently make it funnier.  Craziest of all, you were one of few who somehow could find a way to leave me speechless.

All these things considered, it is totally understandable that we could never work out.  

Our paths are different, which, if you're keeping track is cliche number two.  We've been set on two different roads that each of us must walk separately.  I write this as I fly from Los Angeles to Atlanta at 7:00 AM.  You will soon begin your next semester in school.  Reality kicks in as I realize I'll likely never be seeing you again.  Though we talk now, you'll go to college, likely meet someone (or multiple someones), and forget me.  Such is the nature of your being "the one that got away." It's not entirely a sob story.  I'll work in film, meet someone (or multiple someones) and live a happy ever after of my own.  

I then think about where we became an impossibility and I find comfort in realizing that it can at least partially be attributed to timing and not only my own incompetence.  Maybe if we had started later. . . Maybe if we spent more real time together. . . et cetera, et cetera.  With haste however, I quickly brush those thoughts away from my mind.  "Maybe's" lead to regret, and I'll never regret the time I knew you.  

In brief, no manner of fanciful wordsmanship can better describe how I feel better than this simple sentiment: "Thank you for knowing me.  I wish you the best."

Yours, 
Tim


P.S. If somehow this evolves into more that a great writing exercise and you somehow read this, I expect our next conversation will be a bit awkward.