Letters To An Almost Lover

03: Butterflies and Heartaches

"Summer romances end for all kinds of reasons. But when all is said and done, they have one thing in common: They are shooting stars-a spectacular moment of light in the heavens, a fleeting glimpse of eternity. And in a flash, they're gone."
-The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks

Dear Alex,

Happy New Year.

The last time I saw your beautiful face, was in November, where the leaves outside had turned brown and yellow, as they lay in stasis in wet piles along pavements. I remember I looked into your eyes. And for a second, my mind went blank. Though my heart did not race like it used to, and my stomach wasn't crowded with fluttering butterflies like it once did. That split second had felt like a million years, before I reluctantly tore my gaze away from you. I could tell that your eyes held many unsaid words, that perhaps you were contemplating whether to tell me. But I didn't give you the chance to. I walked away, and pretended you were just some stranger. And for some unexplainable reason you bore a solemn and betrayed expression, as if I had stabbed a knife right into your chest. But I had thought that it was what you would've wanted. To avoid any form of mutual recognition, or even the simplest mandatory wave of hello as a sign of acknowledgement of each other's presence. I was under the impression that you wanted every trace of our "friendship" erased.

And as I walked away I did turn and look back. But you were already gone. And that made me think of all the previous occurrences we had. The sheer proximity between us each time. Always just a few feet apart. So close that if I were to reach over or edge a little closer, our skins would've touched and my heart would've erupted with an overwhelming tingling sensation. But each time we choose to let the overpowering voices of our friends and their pointless conversations drown out the awkward silence between us. We let the chaos that surrounded us distract us from the thumping heart in our chests, as we hold ourselves back from casting glances in each other's direction. We try to look happier, or at least attempt to appear to be too caught up with our friends to even notice each other. We laugh exaggeratedly at jokes that aren't funny and pretend to be immensely engaged in superficial and shallow conversations that you and I both know we hate. With each laughlet we extend the intangible distance between us. We prey on each other's insecurities and carefully construct false pretences in bid to convince each other that we were doing just fine, better off rather. We put on such strong fronts as we helplessly and intentionally watch each other slowly slip away.

And though I know that the beginning of this decade should mark the beginning of me letting go of the idea of you, I still can't help but think of you every now and then. I still wonder how you're doing and if you're doing what makes you happy. In this next ten years, I hope you find the happiness you deserve. Or venture into the great escape you've been searching for your whole life. And I truly wish you find it. This decade would mark the end of our youth. You may get married and have kids, start a family and so may I. I just hope that by the end of it I would've left all the battle scars and wounds of our love behind. Though I know that I will never forget you but perhaps one day when I look back, I'd see it as a mere fragment of my youth that had once meant so much to me.

Thinking of you so fondly x
Arabella