“I never want him to be sad or low. He made me happy, still does. He is a positive person, full of life, a little complex, but he really did understand me. He could see through me, or so I thought at least. He used to give me hope, made me laugh. I was sure he was the one for me, but he didn’t. He loved someone else, someone who never valued him, she had everything and he was crazy about her.
Why are we like this? Why do we believe that there is this one person out there who we are meant to love? How many times is this love reciprocated?
He knew why I was feeling the way I was, no one else understood. I needed to tell him, I needed to tell him that I loved him but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him because he was in love with her, he was truly, madly, deeply in love with her.
I just wanted him to be happy, couldn’t see him so pulled down, depressed and disturbed, though I was in the same place. I could cope with feeling this way and though I knew he could too I didn’t want him to feel like that to begin with.
We led different lives, I might never get to meet him again, but I still just wanted him to be the cheerful, happy-go-lucky person that he was.
He made me happy. He made me feel like maybe there was hope somewhere, all because he was so hopeful, and if he loved her I would be fine with it, or try to be, as long as she made him happy.
I’ll be there for him because I know that I can’t ever forget him.”
A tear rolled down his eye as he read the message in the bottle.