My tumor would be special. It would attack the parts that remember you and leave everything else intact.
First, it would take away the little white box and the way I forgave everything the moment it appeared on the table. It would erradicate your words from my head and all their implications, as well as your actions and their more painful implications. It would wipe out all traces of the tears I've cried over you. It would take away the hurt.
I would no longer know the words to the song I wrote for us, or be able to hear you singing along, fingers gliding over the frets on your guitar. I wouldn't know the way to your house. The sheets on your bed would still be mine. They would be folded up in my closet. They would smell like you, but I wouldn't know that.
You would be gone, off to become a doctor, and I wouldn't know where you went. My tumor would make it so I couldn't imagine your arms wrapped around me at night, because I wouldn't know what that felt like. I wouldn't miss it. I wouldn't hurt anymore.
When other boys would want to take me out, I wouldn't even hesitate. I wouldn't think that I could never let them touch me because no one could feel as good as you. I don't know how you feel anymore. I don't know your lips. I don't know your tongue. I don't know what you feel like inside me. It doesn't hurt anymore.
This tumor would be a miraculous gift.
Every song I ever heard with you would be new to me and I could hear it without hearing you play along. I could eat at our favorite places and not think about you smiling across the table from me. I could drive on these roads. I could live in this city. This city wouldn't weigh me down anymore. It would just be mine. It wouldn't be ours. There is no us, now. Nothing hurts.
All the happiness I felt when your dreams came true- it would all be erased. It would be as if I wasn't there to open your acceptance letter, as if I wasn't there to watch you graduate, as if I didn't see you cross finish lines. I would disappear from those moments forever. I couldn't hope and wish and dream for you anymore. My tumor wouldn't let me love you.
There would be countless movies and TV shows I'd never seen because I saw them with you and the tumor would take it all away. It would take away your baggy fleece pants that I wore when we'd curl up on your couch with ribs and beer on lazy Sunday afternoons. The diamonds around my neck and the pearls in my ears would just be jewelry I would wear sometimes. They would bear no significance. I would probably lose them.
There wouldn't be moments that stole my breath- the roses on my bed, kissing you in the rain, making love all afternoon. I wouldn't have to know how it felt to be complete. I could trick myself into believing I was whole without you.
I would run without your encouraging words in my ears, without your hand on the small of my back. Maybe I wouldn't run at all, because I wouldn't remember why I started. I ran because you were always running and now I have nothing to chase.
It would take away your wisdom and wit. It would take away your laugh and your gorgeous smile. It would take away that intense stare you would get sometimes when you'd see me from across a room. It was a look that only I could understand. After all the work I put into figuring you out, my tumor would destroy our connection.
Everything I ever knew about you would vanish from my mind. You would just be a name. Just a guy I worked with once. You were mean to me. I would have the luxury of hating you, without the overwhelming power of loving you.
The only flaw in this grand scheme of mine would be if we were ever to cross paths-
because my tumor wouldn't stop me from falling in love with you all over again-
and that's okay with me.
