Hey Stephen, you say you are in love? At 22? At that young age I knew all too well that bad blood and a girl at home who owned half of my heart could make you feel like treacherous change was the only way to move on from forever & always. Let me tell you a story.

I thought two was better than one. I thought that if you left me breathless and filled the blank space with your beautiful eyes, that in my perfectly good heart ours would be a love story. The story of us and this love would mean today was a fairy tale because you belonged to me. Our lives would forever reside in a wonderland filled with starlight. Both of us believed this enchanted, untouchable, sweeter than fiction love meant a place in this world, on holy ground, where we’d always be tied together with a smile.

Now I begin again, living fearless because everything has changed since our last kiss. At fifteen I thought I’d never grow up because the world was mean and my style was mine alone.  I should’ve said no to the childhood beliefs that made me feel safe & sound.  I know the other side of the door now – the outside of a dear john letter. It’s crazier still that I became as cold as you, or maybe you became as cold as me.  If this was a movie I would ask my best friend about how he got the girl.  But in reality, the way I loved you and the way you loved me back made our pain invisible and haunted. To each other we are nothing more than a red picture to burn, lost Ronan of an innocent last (white) Christmas, when Santa baby wouldn’t bother coming down our chimney. Come back? Be here? Why? It was best for me to make a clean break, I guess because it was better than revenge to see you with my eyes open: sad, beautiful, and tragic. You begged me to stay stay stay, and I begged you to tell my why, to speak now, but I was superman and a superstar destined to make sparks fly with my wildest dream, because I was the lucky one. You said, “all you had to do was stay” and that “I wish you would”  but I couldn’t have a new romantic rebirth with you. The last time  I left, I drove. I wish it was on my white horse with Tim McGraw, down a highway that don’t care out of the woods to a state of grace and the best day of my life. I saw a sign that said “Welcome to New York”.  I know places there.

You’re not sorry now and neither am I. The moment I knew I could shake it off was the moment I closed my umbrella and came in from the rain. No more teardrops on my guitar, and no more “I almost do”s. No more “I’m only me when I’m with you”. Now I’m me, just me.  I knew you were trouble when I said I hearted you, when I jumped, then fell back to December, metaphorically of course. We are never ever getting back together.  Long live our song, “Mary’s Song”, no matter how sad it was or how silent our nights.

Thank you, and I hope this helps 🙂

Also check out my ridiculously esoteric Venn Diagram about Taylor Swift and the fall of communism.

Song titles from Wikipedia.