Let’s Write: An Open Letter to A Love.


I know it’s been a while and I haven’t said much…or anything really, because, well, it would have hurt too much. Whether you’ll find this or not is beyond me, but I feel comfortable enough sharing this with the faceless masses of those that have the ability to access the internet.

Hello, faceless masses. How are you? Good? Good.

You know, at first it came in flashes; quick bursts of memories, one right after the next. All the happy times, as well as the sad. All of which hurt. For about a week, I wasn’t sure if I could make it a day without bawling my eyes out. I did make it, but that doesn’t make it feel like any more of a success. There are moments when I reminisce on the late night talks on the phone and how often we talked at the very start of it all a year ago. Then I find the moments where I began to think that this was something real and indelible. Those are the moments that make you lose yourself and that make you realize how good it all was.

Then it begins to shift.

The bad moments begin to bubble up. The ill-communication that shook our foundation and the way the tremors shook up my mind and my heart. Those are the moments that make your fists clench and make you realize why it had to stop. This isn’t what it was supposed to be, this wasn’t our life. Life Love shouldn’t transpire like this. We’re told it’s supposed to be easy and like a puzzle. Then you realize that it’s bullshit and life has different obstacles in store for everybody and how they’re dealt with personally affects everyone around you.

Then they say hindsight is twenty/twenty. You’re supposed to see everything clearer, but right now it’s all blurry. I sit here, typing and squinting, because I need a new prescription to be able to see how everything was suppose to work out this way. Everyone says that things happen for a reason and, well, I don’t know what that reason is because I still think about us. About you.

I can’t stop thinking about what could have been, nor do I feel I should ever think of stopping.

There’s a place in my heart especially reserved and there’s no one else that can or will sweep in and take it. I won’t allow it. Where does this leave me? Am I hung up on the slim chance of something happening again? Am I holding on to an empty chance? Will this matter in the future? Where will we be in five years? Is this moving on or am I dwelling?

Sometimes I think if I feel these things for someone else that what I had once felt will start to disappear. A thought came across my mind one night, and it was telling me that our capacity for this kind of love is limited. You can shift and change the dosage, but it would affect how I would always feel. Would I ever love someone as intensely? Was that all of it? Will it be different? Will it be worse? Then I woke up the next day and realized that it doesn’t work like that. At least, it shouldn’t work like that.

Honestly, I don’t care what it is, because I don’t think the love will go away. I don’t think it should. It’s out there, roaming the world, with bright eyes and a hope as relentless and stubborn as I am. And I’m going to let it roam because, who knows, it may lead me back to you. It may lead me astray. All I know is that wherever it leads me, I’m sure it’ll be somewhere great.


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