Dearest heart,
I have no idea if this letter will ever reach you. Even if it does, chance are, you will not even unseal the envelope. But I have to write this. I have to write this for us. I have to write this for you.
Most of all, I have to write this for me.
I have stopped counting the days since we stopped being 'us'. I have stopped fearing the nights with the inevitable dreams that jerk me awake in sweat and tears. I have stopped worrying about the days that feel incomplete without hearing you laugh. I have stopped counting the days and fearing the nights, but I will always remember the exact date, the exact time, the exact look in your eyes when the threads that bound us unraveled, the frayed edges burned, never to be rewoven.
We used to believe that our paths were connected for eternity, that we were each other's strength, that our weaknesses were negligible so long as we were together. It was you and me against the world, remember? You said those words to me the night I sat on your car, my legs dangling in aimless swings, and you were leaning against the side, staring at the few stars that were not hidden behind storm clouds. You and me against the world.
Now it's just me and the world.
Without you.
People around me assured me that time would heal my bleeding heart, that my memories would one day hurt less and less. I repeated those assurances in my head over and over and over, so that maybe if I repeated those words enough, the lies would eventually become the truth. For a while, I started believing, until the moment I saw someone who looked like you.
Every shadow that shadows your figure, every face that looks familiar, every laugh that sounds similar, it still sends my heart fluttering like a caged hummingbird. I berate myself later, every time this happens, but my heart refuses to listen. It still skips a beat at the mere hope of running into you again, seeing you well, seeing you happy.
Because I want you to be happy. God, we did not end in good terms, but it doesn't change the fact that I want the best for you. I used to think every chance of seeing you would mean a chance for us to patch things up, to start fresh. Now, however, I just want to see you living well.
Even this far apart, even though I am lost in the endless depth of space, I can still feel the pull of your gravity. When we were together, that very gravity kept me grounded, sheltered, protected.
It kept me grounded.
I forgot that I was always meant to fly.
I remember that I always hid in your shadow. I used to think that it was because you were bigger than life, that every light shone on you, so that your shadow was larger than everything else. That knowledge brought me comfort. Now that I can no longer seek that comfort, I have come to realize that you kept me in your shadow because if I stood alone, I would not have stolen your light, but I would have become a sun, and my light would have outshone you.
The more time I spend on my own, the more I realize that God had never meant for us to be together until the end of time. God brought us together so that I could learn the value of friendship, of companionship, of love, of trust, and of the strength I have without having to rely on others.
I write this letter not in the hopes of your reading this, but in the hopes that I will heal. That I will move on. That whenever I see someone that reminds me of you, my heart will still flutter, but in such a way that the flutter brings comfortable warmth.
And I will always love you.
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