I have been meaning to write this letter for a long time. I guess, now is the time.
Yesterday marked the fifth month since the time I had last seen you. But I have that selfie in my phone which we had clicked when we had met. Whenever I want to see you, I see that picture. And whenever I see that picture, I go through a roller coaster of emotions. In those times, I don’t know if I should cry that you aren’t with me, or I should be glad that we happened. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I laugh. And today is one such day. Oh, wait! It isn’t. If it were, I wouldn’t have been writing this letter.
Most of the days, I am broken. But today, I am devastated, which tempted me to write to you.
Now, all I wish for is to forget. I know I can’t. But I am trying to. I have always mocked the idea of time machine and time travel. But now, I wish we had a time machine, so that I could time travel and go back to the past and finish it before it even started or I could travel to the future and see how it would end. It would have saved both of us from a lot of pain. No? I mean, I don’t know about you; but it certainly would have saved me from a great deal of pain.
“Because even after all this time I still wonder
Why I can’t move on
Just the way you did so easily.”
I was already like broken pieces of a glass. You walked all over me to break me into further more fragments – those fragments got scattered – and now I can’t seem to find them to assemble and be ready to face another storm. You were a path less travelled. I should have known that loving you was embarking on a one-way road journey, and no matter how hard or how much I would try, there would be no going back. And for the first time, I hated the poem “The road not taken” by Robert Frost, which, otherwise, I couldn’t have.
When you left me, you should have taken your memories away with you as well. You were once a beautiful dream to me. I always wondered how something as beautiful as love could turn into nightmares. Then we happened, and I had no questions to ask or wonder about.
“I hate you, I love you
I hate you, I want you
You want him, you need him
And I’ll never be him.”
I wish to talk to you every day. But I can’t. The last time I had called you, you had blocked my number. Now, I hope that you might have unblocked my number, and I feel good in those times and I want to call you; but this very hope keeps me away from calling you, for there is a part of me which believes that you haven’t unblocked my number. I go back to what I was. You know, sometimes, I call you and cut the call before I can even hear anything from the other side. Reality frightens me.
“We don’t talk anymore!
Like we used to do...
We don’t love anymore
What was all of it for?
Oh, we don’t talk anymore.”
You left me like I never mattered. I don’t know if it’s the reality or not, but that’s how I feel now. And it is dreadful. This feeling – right here – kills me, slowly, day by day. [I wish I were addicted to cigarettes]. On days, I want to cry. But tears don’t come out. So I scream. I scream from inside. And on some days, I cry like I have never cried ever before. It destroys me, crushes my bones, and torments my soul. I never meant to tell you all of these, but pardon me, you should know. You would always ask me to tell you how I felt, or scream at you. But I never did. I wish I had. Now, when I want to tell you, I can’t. I wish I could. You aren’t here. I wish you were.
“But I wonder where were you
When I was at my worst
Down on my knees
And you said you’d my back
So I wonder where were you”
I search for you in every one I come across, and maybe, that’s the reason why I am left all alone at the end of the day. I laugh with many. They fail to see what lies behind this laughing face . And in those times, I am reminded of how you would break every facade I used to put up. My pain is visible in my laughter. But you can’t see it. I wish you could. On cold foggy mornings, I write our names on the window pane. Somehow, the wind manages to blow your name away with it, leaving mine behind. I laugh. Then I cry.
“And I can’t see the end of this
Now all this time is passing by
But I still can’t seem to tell you why
It hurts me every time I see you
Realize how much I need you.”
So, now, all I hope and ask of you is to come back and save me from drowning in the ocean of tears, loneliness, and despair. They say that my hope is of no use and that I am wasting my time. I can’t make them understand – “Hope is a very good thing; maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies – I wish it to turn out to be true. I have lost enough. I don’t want to lose myself now.