You started to appear in my dreams, just a few days before your birthday. It was weird, because I hadn't been thinking about you for a while now. Not that I wanted to forget you, it just stopped coming up. I thought I'd call you just to say Happy Birthday, and I counted down the days. The day came but I only sat next to the phone all night, debating with myself over whether I should call or not.
I was afraid of what I'd hear. Or not hear. I don't know. I guess I mostly didn't know what to say, and I was afraid that we wouldn't have anything to talk about. I hate awkward silences, especially over the phone.
I want to say I miss you, but I'm scared that you don't miss me the same way. I know it's selfish to say that now, because I was the one who left in the first place. I remember last summer when we sat together, unable to remember the time we shared, barely remembering the years we spent apart. We went on our separate ways, and we had both changed since then. You've grown more confident, stronger in your presence and perhaps even happier. Or so it seemed at least, to me.
Truth is I didn't know what our relationship meant to me at the time, or even now. It's easy to say that I wish I had known better, or laugh at myself for the silly decision I made, or say that it would have been different if I had known better. I don't remember what I thought, or how I felt. But I had my reasons, and they made sense back then. I don't know if I really wish we had another chance. In some ways I barely know you now, and I'm a different person.
I tell myself that I miss you, but maybe mostly I just miss who I was 6 years ago, the person you fell in love with.
I tried to write you an email, but writing you in English seems odd. I started a letter and thought I'd give the snail mail method another try, but my Chinese had failed me. After all, I have learned to express my feelings better in English, and it just doesn't really translate well. But maybe you're just a projection, an outlet for my imagination. And I don't know what I am, stuck between the present and the past, trapped between the language that I know but don't understand, and one that you know but can't grasp.
Frankly it would be too much to ask you to have me in your life again, and I don't even know where you'd fit in mine. We've gone too far in each direction. But there's something and that will never change, and I'm sorry I denied this for so long: you were my first, and will always be.
Wish you all the best.
Love always,
Me
note: delayed post