I was young. It was 10 years ago now. How was I to know that the chemistry I felt between us was nothing more than physical. How was I to know that you and me would never be anything, that you would follow me in the back of my mind for the next 10 years. I wonder if you understand how insignificant you made me feel. I wonder if you knew I didn’t want to be part of all the other girls who followed you around and sat beside you. I wanted to be different from them. For years I thought it was my fault that we never worked out. I thought because I was shy and felt great anxiety around you that I was the reason you never made an effort to talk to me. I believed that because what I felt for you was greater than anything I’d felt before and that the chemistry (to this day) was more than I had ever felt, that I should have done more, said more.
This story is not about a conversation that was significant; this story is about one hundred little conversations that never existed. It’s about one hundred little waves of the hand that we shared and that’s where the connection stopped. But I never understood how for years I thought of you, when I saw another guy. I compared the feeling I got around you to the feeling I got around him. I put you and guys like you on some pedestal, until one day after so much had happened to me I learned how to look guys like you in the eye. I learned how to flirt. I learned to look for other guys not like you — to ignore that huge sense of attraction — because guys like you were fake, thought they could have any girl. Guys like you got off on attention from pretty girls, they didn’t know how to treat pretty girls. Guys like you didn’t know how to be with a girl and make her feel fantastic. Guys like you were users. I hope today your still not like this.
Still, for years, I wanted the guy I thought you were. I never found him. I found another guy who loved me and took care of me and talked with me. But the chemistry is not like it was, the excitement isn’t there. I don’t know if I have just grown up or if I’m settling. I love him, but a part of me doesn’t, a part of me belongs with you. I think you stole it the last time I saw you walking down the temporary pathway to the university library. Your thickly lashed blue eyes looked at me and became huge and then we said “Hey” to one another. It was the last of one hundred conversations we never really had. My first step towards freedom.
Say Something – A Great Big World