An Open Letter

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To you who I can't help but love,

Remember the time when you said you won't let go, I said I can? Or the time you weren't confident if you'll ever be okay but I said I'll be, with or without you.

Remember the day I wasn't okay but you were. When you let go and I couldn't? I'm still looking for the potion which made us switch places.

Tell me, did you always know how hopelessly I'm in love with you? Well, I did. When I said my love was enough for the both of us. I did, then.

They say, don't fall in love. But if you do, do it with the right person. What if the right becomes wrong? Then, you stop loving. Yeah, I stopped. I stopped and it died. And it made me lose my faith in love. Love dies. Love fizzles out. It doesn't stay. True love stays. And I couldn't believe that my love wasn't true. The love I gave my all for.

I believe everything can be fixed. Talk it out, write it down. Do whatever it takes, fix it. But fixing works both ways. If I ask and you don't say, if I say and you don't listen, we don't move forward. We stay in the same mess, the same tangled misunderstandings. I'm beginning to think you like it here. You like things like this.

Our arguments are always one sided. You say you hate explanations. You give none. You take none. So I don't protest anymore. Not because I don't care, but because I know it won't matter.

There's this kind of love that brings your pride down. Down a notch? No. Down to its knees. I call it—pathetic love. I loved you like that, pathetically. It's hard to imagine now that I've regained my composure. But my voice still gets stuck in my throat, when I hear yours. My eyes flutter close at the sound of your laugh. That painfully familiar laugh. And I realized love stays. It so bloody does.

I promise to you, someday I'll have enough. Enough of swallowing down the bitter blames and your loveless games. That day, I'll let go of that straining rope that holds us together. And that day, would be the end. Oh but it wouldn't. Because you'd reach out and grab that rope with one strong grip unlike my both hands with all of my strength, yet still fumbling and trembling. Yes, you're cruel like that.

I hope you don't read this. I hope you do. I hope it makes your heart bleed at least half as mine did. It's okay, I'd call it even. I'm stupid like that.

Unwantingly yours.

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