Meaningless

vii.

I found the letter in my bag, a small stack of neatly folded paper. I was drinking her iced coffee, sitting at a table in the food court. I recognized her small, messy handwriting immediately.

So she hadn't ceased to exist. She must have been on the plane, already plugged in her earbuds, looking out the small window at the runway. I took a sip of the sweet watery coffee.

...

I am sorry for disappearing on you. It feels strange writing about something I will do in the future—who knows if things will go as planned—but I can imagine your worried expression. I really am sorry. Not just for this. For everything, too.

Time flies by so quickly. I first realized it that one night we crossed the Bridge of Life. Cars passed by, warm wind melted into our faces, and you were holding my hand as we walked underneath a starlit night sky. That was the first time I ever wanted a moment to last forever. Do you still remember that night? I know I asked you to forget it, but I promised myself I'd keep what you said in my heart, tightly wound like a rope, never to let go. But already, some things are fading. Some things are imaginary. What if the sky was covered by clouds? What if there was no breeze? Sometimes, I see the Bridge, but it is empty.

I've always felt that everything was meaningless. And it wasn't self-pity or anything of the sort. Just a pervasive loneliness. Something heavy, covering me like my clothes and skin, forcing itself into existence by feeding off my being. No matter what I tried, I could never escape it. So everything was meaningless.

I tried to kill myself once. This was before I met you at the bar. I stood on a chair at my parents' place, a rope tied to a ceiling groove. I let go.

It's embarrassing now, but the rope snapped and I was left with a sore throat for the rest of the week.

I know this isn't something you should ever deserve hearing, but I felt meaningless.

Then, I met you. And I tried to find meaning in the meaningless. You taught me that there are things to love about myself. Even as you struggled with your own problems, you carried my share without ever losing patience in my selfishness. I can't thank you enough for that. You saved me, continue to save me.

Did you know? The universe is expanding constantly—at the speed of light. As infinite as it seems, there's a point where space and time repeats itself, because there are only so many ways a finite number of particles can be rearranged within a finite world. That means there could be another universe at our fingertips, overlapping our own. Maybe we are together there, maybe we could stay together forever, maybe in that universe I don't think these things, I don't feel this way. We live happily ever after.

For some reason, this idea calms me. Somewhere, someplace, we are walking the Bridge together again.

Have I ever mentioned running away? Moving from time to time—you know I enjoy travelling. I know this is absurd, as you know many of my ideas are. There has always been this urge deep within me to leave everything and run somewhere else. I can't help it. It never mattered before, but now it does, and that's why I am here, writing, spilling my feelings onto these pieces of paper, like transcribing my soul. But even as I say this, I've still decided to leave you. And it has nothing to do with you, or anything you did. This is just the best option for the both of us. I don't mean to sound like I'm doing this only for you, because I'm not. It's just a selfish desire as you well know.

It isn't like we can't contact each other. I have your phone number saved. Mine won't change. We can video chat. I could fly back on breaks. I imagine we would meet up in the café again, like we always do. You order an Americano, I order a slice of pie and a small hazelnut roast. You ask how I've been and I answer and you hold my hand and we kiss and... We could have a long distance relationship. But I know things won't be so simple; nothing ever is. We will change. We will meet new people, new lovers. We'd be preoccupied with reality. A letter around the world used to take years back then. Now it takes a few seconds. Yet I know the chat exchanges will crawl to a stop. It won't be your fault or mine. Physical distance has always created barriers, even with technology. We'll drift from each other the way clouds fall apart. I'll become meaningless again.

My decision might be wrong. I may break down one night and call you and cry and ask you to help me. Because it has always been about me, and I know it has. So let it be about me just one last time.

I can never express how wonderful it was to be with you—it really was. Just don't be afraid like me, not anymore, not about everything at least. Not everyone will leave you the way I did. Someone is bound to stay—most will. I am just sorry I couldn't.

I hope you can find a way to forgive me one day.

P.S.

I actually bought two pairs of those bunny socks. For the both of us. Check your drawer when you get home, if you're not too busy. They're super comfortable and I really hope you like them.