Letters I'll Never Send You

Dear John

Dear John,

I remember how we loved- insanely. I remember the time you travelled for hours to just meet me for one meal, the time you couldn't take your eyes off me even when I wasn't looking, the night you didn't sleep when we first laid together as if you were afraid I'd disappear when you blink. I remember each time you gave me one more kiss when we were saying bye even though we'd had the parting kiss, and each time you pulled me closer to you even though you were already holding me the closest I could've been held.

I remember my ring on your index finger and my picture on the lock screen of your phone.

You loved insanely, warmly, delicately but also wildly in a devouring sense.

It's been a minute since I felt that.

It's been a while since I looked at you and thought this is where my future lies, and it's been a while since I could say I love you without an aching pain in my heart.

It's been a while since I decided I want more.

I want more in many senses, but nothing that changes you. I don't wish for you to look better, or for you to spend more money on me. I don't want expensive gifts or weekly fine dines. I don't want flowers every time I see you or grand gestures on every special occasion. I don't want more of anything except love.

I miss waking up to texts you left me at 3AM when you couldn't sleep and I was the only thing on your mind.

I miss being able to come to you after a hard day knowing you'll understand.

I miss your kindness.

I miss your warmth.

I miss the familiarity behind your touch.

I miss not feeling lonely because now I keep wondering why I feel so even though you're sitting just across me.

I miss the little things, John. I miss how often you used to hold my hand to kiss my knuckles. I miss that I could be free with you knowing you'd protect me.

It keeps me up at nights, how we went from you protecting me to me needing protection from your anger?

I know things between us changed. I know we fought. I know I messed up a few times. I know I didn't forgive you as soon as I should have for a few of your mistakes. I know we disagreed.

But I also know that there was love.

And love doesn't change.

People do.

I guess you did. And then, so did I.

And now it hurts that if you were ever put in a room full of people that you've loved when you were drunk, you'd not stumble your way to me. I know it's stupid because that'll never happen, ever, but it still hurts.

The fact that the only reason you were mine was because she died.

Some days, I feel like a replacement. Some days, I feel like a fool to have fallen in love with a man who's heart was someone's else's before me and then tainted with tragedy of a death he'll never forget, while I will become just another ex.

I know it's selfish. I know it's so selfish to think this way for a girl who's not in this world any more.

But what about all those nights I made sure you weren't carrying your tragedies alone?

What about all those nights I stayed with you while you cried for another girl?  

What about all those nights I cried to myself when you disappeared for too long, wondering if your burdens became too much to handle and you may have done something to yourself?

It's so, so, so selfish. But after all that love, she still gets celebrated. You call her the best girlfriend ever on her death anniversary while still dating me, dedicate to her the songs we danced upon, find comfort in her pictures every time I fail to be there for you, celebrate her birthdays on your social media while I don't even know your friends back home.

It feels selfish to compare myself to a dead girl but now that things are so rough between us, I wonder if she was always the one, and I was just filling the hole in between?

If I was just covering the hole where it hurt to think about her, and now that I helped you through it and it doesn't hurt as much any more to reminisce, I wonder if that's why you fill yourself with memories of her and leave me to wonder if everyone was right all along- that for you it'll always be her.

It's selfish. It's wrong to think this way. But it hurts so bad that I'm not sure if I'm overthinking my insecurities or finally seeing the truth.

And now that it's all said and done, if I leave you now, if I walk away with everything I ever gave, would I be just that?

An ex?

Somebody that you used to know?

I want more than what you're giving me right now, but I don't know what to do of all that you've already given me. How do I forget the love? How do I get over the insecurities?

How do I live again?

I don't know how long I can keep pretending to look at you and smile, because I stopped feeling happy a long time ago.

I don't know for how much longer can I let you make me so sad just because I am in love with you.

I don't know for how much longer can I hate myself because I only learnt how to love you.

You taught me how to love you.

I wish you would've taught me how to unlove you as well, because if I don't stop now, I won't make it out of this alive.

Yours,
Heer.