dear muse,
it's october. happy birthday.
3 years have flown by and i reckon i'm over you — partially at least, i would say. my heart no longer winces at the thought of you or at the mention of your name, although every song i listen to and every quote i see still jogs my memory of us, 2017 you; although you're still the first person i yearn to go to whenever i'm upset.
you once meant the entire universe to me, and this book will always be a reminder of how exuberant i used to be — a reminder of how much i once loved someone.
you've brought out both the best and worst in me, and i'm so thankful for you. but some nights, i resent you — for ruining my ability to love anyone else. you were so different from everyone else; you've brought me such inexpressible emotions that everyone else, when compared to you, is mere ashes and dust. and i detest you — for you taught me how destructive talking to someone every single day can be; because there will come a day where you don't converse at all, and it's going to be the loneliest feeling in the world. you were so perfect in such intangible means, and i know no one else would ever make me feel the way you did again.
i used to think "letters he'll never read" would cease to exist by 2019, because i believed i would have simply ran out of things to write about you — but oh hell was i wrong. i'm not the best at words, yet everyone assumes i'm a good writer; but little do they know i fail miserably in expressing my thoughts accurately, especially when it comes to you.
and i'm petrified, because everything i do as an attempt at reconciliation comes out as nothing more than a desperate futile try. but you're someone i'm willing to bruise all over for umpteen times, someone i'm willing to become a ghost for, so that our past would not evanesce. and exactly because you're my kryptonite, i always end up stumbling back to square one — even when i believed i've moved on.
[10th december 2019]
in spite of that, i'm going to move on from now on. we've reached the epilogue, and i'm beginning to recognize that even if i wrote you into a million excerpts and tried to keep you alive in that sense, you'll never read any of them — you're not going to return. these 3 years have been a roller coaster ride, and although you've never left my mind, i know it's time for me to let you go.
thank you for bringing out the best in me. though you ruined my ability to love another, you've empowered me in ways i can never imagine — bringing out the inner strength in me. and for once, i'm grateful for your departure, because if not for that, i would have never mastered the combination of being both soft and strong.
you've moved on, and i'm happy for you too. and i think in 2020, it's time for me to live my life without you too — to not be afraid to let go and be on my own. and only then, our story will no longer define me, and i'll no longer be terrified that there's still a lifetime left — after you.
only then, i can finally write a brave new ending.
from, author
YOU ARE READING
letters he'll never read
Romance"and if a writer falls in love with you, you can never die" dear you, imy. before i knew it, you disappeared into thin air; but even after you were gone, you were still my muse. and what terrified me the most was that there's still a lifetime left...
