This is it.
A good bye letter.
But this isn't for you to read or to cherish.
This is for me. To force myself to pretend to let you go. Or more specifically letting the idea of loving you,go.
You know how in stories they begin with nothing and end up with everything? We were the opposite of that. We had everything, everyone. And now we have this empty little space.
Goodbyes are hard to say, which is why I am choosing to write instead of saying things. We often regret things that we don't do. You once said that. And to avoid regret, I'm spilling these words out. Even though the chances of you reading this is zero.
I could go on writing forever about the memories we had, but I won't. Because someday when I re read this letter, It would be the only part of you which is left with me.
All my life I've seen letters confessing love, but the thing is loving someone is painful.
Everything is temporary and you know they'll leave. Therefore, I am writing a letter of pain.
Another reason why I chose to write is because I know you wouldn't let me rant for this long. You say words are beautiful, but people often get tired of beauty. Needless to say, it wouldn't have took you long enough to get tired of me. More specifically this me.
You fell for a side of me. Because you didn't even know the whole picture. That was someone I used to be. And changes are something we cannot handle.
Speaking of changes, I hope you'll find someone who was a person that I couldn't be.
They say if you love someone, let them go. I doubt this was love, but whatever was between us, I'm keeping aside.
I'm letting you go.
It's too late for our love to bloom anyways.
—————
25.3.19
(A/N) I am still shaking while posting this. I hope you like it. I'd love to hear your feedback or what you think about the letters. And thank you for choosing this book and letting my voice be heard.
Love,
Srish.
YOU ARE READING
Letters of a broken heart
Short StoryI made you up. And then I wrote to you. So much to the point That I got attached to you And to where I have to convince myself My feelings aren't real. Little letters carried with grace but buried by the hands of someone who has no intention o...
