Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
—max
Hi, came!
I often fail to notice how life feels so void without you—when our relationship went awry. How everything seems so off when you're not at my side—Without your alluring perfume, the grin, the corny jokes, and the concerns in your eyes. How difficulties become so dull without your rants, your practical words of pearls of wisdom, and even your adorable yet troublesome pair of hazel eyes. Despite the fact that it has been almost three years since we split up, it seems like the beginning of our broken relationship was only recently.
We enjoyed and experience those unforgettable memories that I've kept the letter you gave me under the mahogany tree to this day. At the same time, you were holding your precious guitar upon your right palm is resting on the back of your neck. I still have the bottle of poems you wrote when I forced you to do so since I know, you will never do such a thing without coercion.
I just love playing with words, and you're more into playing instruments and games, disregarding your talent in writing due to your penmanship (Yeah, I know. It sucks, babe).
Those moments seem so surreal, that I kept closing my eyes because they seemed so strange, wanting to be awakened in your arms. But I always find myself disappointed, with the fact of holding you no more.
I've been crying for days, thinking about how we ended up in just space of a single blink. Thinking how everyone despised me for breaking up with you without knowing I'm also in so much pain for doing such action. They were never aware of my suffering, never understood my point, and will never get how our separation was caused by the circumstances.
I love you more than the way the universe function, more than how I love myself, and how it is adjacent to my love for my family. I've been hurt as well, especially when you knelt, begging for me to take my words back—But I can't.
Heaven knows how I'm eager to take it back, but I can't. Your pink shirt is still in my memory, the one you've worn when I held your hand for the first time and unfortunately for the last time. My rest, my peace, and my rant buddy is no longer mine.
