Quentin Jacobsen was the last person I trusted my life with. I had always believed in him starting the day I climbed down his bedroom window when we were ten. I’d always believed he understood. But then, like everybody did, he failed me. Instead of saving me from me, he went away. He went back to Orlando. It wasn’t as if I was expecting him to come to New York with me, that would’ve been unfair. Or drag me all the way back to Orlando, that would’ve been much unfair. All I was expecting was for him to fight for what he feels for me. And we could have gone on our own perpetual journey.
Clearly, Q was brave for a moment. He followed all my clues, patiently solving the mystery of my disappearance, and eventually he found me. Then he went back to the typical Q I’ve known for so long. Q is scared as shit to live the life of the unknown. For all I know, he already had his future nicely planned out. Graduate from college, get a nice paying job, marry a quiet reserved perfect almost like him girl, have cutesy carbon copies babies, etc. For a moment, I could laugh at myself for having even thought that Q would choose me. Bravo Q. You didn’t choose the paper girl. Your paper girl who lie all the fucking time because she’s too scared at the first sight of something permanent.
I’m sorry Q. But I lied to you. I lied when I said I didn’t want to be found. I wanted to! Fuck it Q! I wanted to be found by you! That’s why I left all those clues. Because I knew that you’re way too smart and way too in love with me to not figure out. But I didn’t know that you’re stupid enough to think that I really wanted this. I never wanted to leave Q. But you didn’t even ask. You just kissed me. And to tell you, a kiss is always not enough Q.
When I held his hand, I didn’t want to let go. But I had to. I didn’t want Q to see me cry. At least spare him the drama so he wouldn’t blame himself for my actions. I know Q, he could do a lot of worrying.
Looking back, I now understand why I stopped hanging out with Q. I know that it wasn’t just because of the status quo at school. It was more than that. I wanted a future in which I go different places, doing different things that would matter, making people think that Margot Roth Spiegelman is more than who she was – that she only lived in the paper towns but she wasn’t really a part of it. She wasn’t a paper girl. And if I stayed with Q. I couldn’t have done all of it. I would’ve probably be Q’s girlfriend, obeying whatever he wanted, and he wants to stay there. I cannot ever stay at Orlando. I have to find myself somewhere out there, and when I do, I have to find where I truly belong.
Before we part, I promised Q that I would buy a cellphone when I arrived at New York, so I’d be able to call him. Also, I promised that I’d email him. But sometimes, we only say these kind of stuff when we say goodbye, but we don’t really do them. We just make promises just because.
I won’t call Q. I won’t email you. Because I won’t go back. And if I don’t go back, everything will be fine. You see Q. Lace or Becca or Jase, they weren’t really my last string. My last string was you. I tried to believe that it wouldn’t break because I had faith in you. I held onto that. But it’s too late now. My last string broke. I just hope now that the wind would whisper to you to tell you what I told you the night we parted before I left for good.
I. will. miss. hanging. out. with. you.
And Q?
I. Love. You.
Musings of a Wanderess 