I'm too old for this. My life has turned into one big Bryson Tiller song. Whatever. I can't say I don't deserve it.
A while back, I wrote an article about the girl I "benched." The one I took for granted. She was probably the girl I should have been with from the start.
But, of course, I'm a guy. I fucked it up. I chose to pursue women who drove me crazy or who did me dirty while I returned the favor. Instead of interjecting some peace and calm in my life, I chose to take risks. But, hey, what are your 20s for, right?
But now she's moved on. I'm not a man of many regrets, but she's definitely one of the few. So here's to her.
To the one who had my heart all along,
You were probably the one who was right for me from the beginning. Now it seems as if you've found love elsewhere. You deserve every ounce of it. You deserve somebody who treats you right. Lord knows you deserve the world.
The thing is I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO GIVE IT TO YOU! I mean, granted, I was never ready mentally, emotionally, or financially, but all I needed was time. I'm still not all the way there yet, but I'm ready to work.
But who am I to keep you waiting? You don't owe me anything. If you've found happiness, then who am I to keep you from it?
But who is this guy? Better yet, who does he think he is?
Now, for the record, if you think I sound like a hater, it's because I am hating. I have the right to. But then again I don't. I snoozed; I lost. It is what it is.
But damn.
One day, I was going to take things seriously. I just wasn't ready. I'm still not ready, but please don't move on. I had it all planned out in my head. The timing just wasn't right, I promise.
But who am I to stop you? You've stuck by me through thick and thin. You've watched helplessly for years while people strolled in and out of my life. You knew that one day it would be you and me. So you waited patiently.
Until you got tired of the bench.
So here we are. Well, no... there you are and here I am. You seem happy. I hope you are because I'm not. I mean I'm happy for you. But I feel like sh*t. That gorgeous smile I see is the product of someone else's doing.
I can make your smile wider, though! I'm the only one who literally has you dying laughing, adding the extra O's to your LMAO.
You used to send me 10 "crying-laughing" emojis after you would finally catch on to one of my corny jokes. Nobody makes you laugh like that, right? Right?
I guess, I'm wrong.
It's my bad. I waited too long. I played around. I thought you would always be there. I took you for granted. I'm sorry.
I know my apology falls on deaf ears now.
Maybe it's my turn to wait. Maybe I'll just sit in the shadows and hope that one day you'll come around. Maybe I deserve a sip of my own Hennessy. Maybe I deserve to spend the next five years of my life alone in my room at night, listening to "Maybe I Deserve" by Tank.
Maybe.
One thing is for certain though: If you're genuinely happy, I'm happy. Kind of.
I hope he makes your smile bigger than I could. I hope he takes care of you in ways I couldn't. I hope he fills the void I refused to fill for so long. I hope he's everything I'm not.
Well... no I don't.
Deep down, I'm hoping it doesn't work out. I'm hoping he messes up -- not to the point that he hurts you or to the point that you become bitter and maybe even take it out on me.
I hope he screws up just enough that you'll escape relatively unscathed and return to your comfort zone (don't believe everything you've read about comfort zones, by the way).
Does this make me selfish? Yes. Does It make me a hater? Absolutely. But even worse than all of that is the fact that I'm old, lonely, and full of regret.
Come home when you get a chance. I'll be here.
Maybe.
With Love,
Sad, solemn, somber, solo Shaun.
