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I used to think that people who depended on people were crazy. It was a thought of "How can you say you can't live without a person?" But I understand it now. Because you're gone.
You didn't die, though maybe that would be better. I say that to myself and half of me thinks I'm crazy for saying it, but the other half is mad that I didn't see this coming in order to think these thoughts. You left me when I needed someone the most. You left and basically said you would never come back. You left me alone, saying you needed to leave Beacon Hills and that you didn't want me to come with you. I didn't understand why, and I probably never fully will, but the least you could have done was kiss me one last time before you drove to the airport.
I say that it would be easier if you died because at least I would think you still loved me. You would be gone, and you wouldn't probably be in a relationship with another person by now or be happy without me, someone you said made you the happiest you've ever been.
I didn't like thinking about sad things, even when others were sad. If someone really needed me because they were sad, I would help, of course, but as soon as they felt better, I would do something else to try to make me forget the sad thoughts. But now you're gone and I want to feel sad. I want to feel sadness, because with you gone, I usually feel anxiety. But when I focus on sadness, that goes away...for the most part.
I was diagnosed with anxiety a few years before we met, and I can't help but think that maybe that was a part of why you left. Maybe you thought it was too much. I couldn't even watch your favorite horror movies or ghost hunting shows, something you loved. But I was someone you loved, and I thought that that was the reason why you never got mad at me for leaving you alone with your shows. Maybe I was wrong.
If someone were to tell me three years ago, when we first became a couple, that you would leave me, I would never believe them. Because you said you weren't going anywhere. You said you would stay by my side, because you loved me and I loved you. But maybe, just maybe, I trust people too much.
Scott is still staying up all night with me when I need him, and it makes me feel horrible. I text him everytime I feel like doing something bad, and he usually has to drink coffee to stay up with me. I make him drink coffee, something made to make people stay awake, in order to deal with me. But I can't help it. I also text him when I get too anxious. He has a job, an actual job, and I still feel the need to text him whenever I need it, as if I mean more than his job and money just because of you. I never hurt myself, not usually on purpose for that reason, but I usually throw things and break things. Not going crazy with it, just throwing pillows and action figures. Yes I still have those, even though you always made fun of them. I knew you didn't mean to say it to hurt me, so I never really minded.
When you told me you were leaving, you didn't say much.
"I have to go, Stiles."
"Derek, tell me why. Tell me why and maybe we can work this out."
"No. You can't come."
"And why not?"
"Because I don't need you with me. You don't need me all the time, Stiles. I need to go do this."
"Why?"
"Because I want to see the world a little more."
"See it with me, then!"
"Stiles, this isn't something I want to discuss. I can't stay here my whole life, I need to do this."
"Why can't I come? Explain to me that."
"Because I need to explore a little more."
"Basically meaning you want to find someone else to be in a relationship with!?"
"Maybe."
"Wait, what?"
"I need to do this. I can't keep thinking that this is all that there is. Goodbye, Stiles."
"I love you."
"Goodbye."
Well, maybe you did. But I still don't understand it.
I don't understand how one day you're saying you love me and then the next, you tell me you're leaving me. You didn't even say you loved me that day. Or the day after, when you left for the airport. I didn't go to your house until late into your packing, when you were getting into your car. I told you I loved you, again, and you just drove off.
You left me standing in the woods, crying at six in the morning. I leant onto a tree and cried until my chest hurt, then I drove off to get drunk.
I'm twenty-three and you're twenty-four, not a huge age difference. We met when I was nineteen and I accidently ran into you. Literally ran into you. I was in the mall, running to find Lydia, when i looked away for one second and then I hit right into you. The next year, we started dating. You never forced me to do something that scared me too much and I never forced you to deal with me every time I had a panic attack. But you wanted to. At least you said you did. And now, you're gone and I have no one to go to.
Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I rely too much on people who don't deserve it. Well, no one deserves this, in my opinion.
I went to all of your social media two weeks ago, and there was a couple picture of you with some girl. It looked like you were slow dancing. You're gone for four months and you already found another person to be with.
I'm replaceable.
I'm thinking this and I notice my problem. I just can't deal with anything real. Bad things happen. Good things happen. There's not always going to be a good that comes with the bad, but I can learn to move on.
Because you have.
I love you, Derek.
If you ever come back, I'll be here waiting. Because I love you. And you said you loved me.
And I meant it.
Did you?