THE LAST LETTER

Remember when I told you I have written a lot of poems and stuff about/because of you? Well, this will be the last one. And I’m going to pour my soul on this just like I did pour all the love in me to you. I may or may not send this to you because this letter is saying more about me than it is about you. Writing is cathartic so I’m doing this to let my feelings out and maybe, just maybe, it’ll be easier for me to move on after this. Well, I hope.

I’m no longer sure what to believe in anymore. I’m no longer sure what to think. I’m so sad right now tears won’t even flow; it don’t show in the morning but it always haunt me at night. Remember when you told me that you sang Thinking Out Loud during the Christmas party in your office and that you felt so happy and complete and all you were thinking by then was me? Remember when you told me that you hope that I’ll be the last one you’ll love? Remember when you told me that you love me so much? Remember the first time you held my hand? Remember our first kiss? Remember those sweet random texts and calls? I remember everything. I keep reminding myself that everything you told and showed me was real and true, wasn’t it? I’d like to believe that everything you made me feel was real. It felt fucking real; or maybe I’m just too in love with you that I thought it was. I hate it that the things I was so sure about before seem so obscure now. Since it became official that we two are over now, that there’s no longer an ‘us’, everyday is torture. They say love should feel like heaven, this feels like an extreme ride, it is so overwhelming I just want to throw up and break down ’til there’s no more fluid that can stream out of my body, ’til it drains me. Overwhelming. I guess I gave you too much love than your heart could hold. I’m sorry if you think it’s too much. Someone told me that maybe you think it’s unfair for me that you can’t return the amount of love I can give you. Whether it is like that or not (we can only assume), damn it. I don’t expect the same ‘amount of love’, you don’t freaking measure love. The funny thing is, I understand. I’d like to hate you ’cause maybe it’ll lessen the blow but I don’t and it doesn’t. I understand but it doesn’t hurt less. But you know what hurts more? The thought of you thinking about how to forget her while I’m picking my shattered pieces together–which you scattered–alone. I tried to help you, Pol. But you need to help yourself, too. You can’t move forward if you won’t even have the will to take a step. I know you tried but it’s sad that it’s not enough for you to stay with me. You were so broken when I met you, I thought I could at least help you so I gave you all the love I have in my system thinking that it will drown away your pain but I ended up with a heartache instead. I told you you will be my worst heartbreak if this doesn’t work out for us but what have you done? You didn’t take care of my heart. Or maybe it’s me who broke my own heart, but you smashed my soul into these tiny little pieces that can’t easily be put back together. It fucking hurts. It really does. I didn’t just fell in love, I’ve been in love; I still am. This feeling won’t change anytime soon, tho. I’m not saying I feel incomplete without you, I’ve been living my life before you. I mean, I’ve been stained by you and this love will stay like a birthmark. I’m complete but there will always be a part of you in me and I hope I imparted something of myself in you, too. I wish you all the happiness, you know? I wish us both happiness. I told you I love the sunsets, it’s because there’s always something beautiful at the end of things. Tomorrow never dies. I don’t know what I see in you that made me feel this way. Nah, screw that. I saw your eyes and there I saw your soul. I saw your eyes, how sad they were. I saw it shine and that made me think I was doing the right thing, that maybe I was the reason for the good change but I guess I’m wrong. Someone told me: “No one really totally moves on. They just find someone who is much better. That’s why people tend to do something that is different from their past relationships. They’ll do something that’ll make their current relationship better than the last.” You haven’t totally moved on yet but I appreciate that you tried. Even if it’s me that seems like the one who’s pathetic at the end, I wouldn’t want to meet you any other way. I love how we met. I love every moment with you. I’m still hoping you’ll come back. Is that foolish of me? Well, I just hope. I’m not saying that I will wait ’cause I won’t. Life goes on. I will try to move on. If love is real, it will stay but that doesn’t mean that I’ll stop living just because you left. I still know my worth. I have a career to fulfill though going home every night will be a struggle. I still remember the nights we went home together. The streets. The freaking streets that we walked on side by side. I still pass your house, there’s no way that I’ll take a detour. Desensitization. Maybe if I will expose myself to things that hurt it’ll lessen the impact soon enough.

I used too much ‘maybe’, ‘I think’, ‘I guess’ in this because I’m a ball of chaos like that. I’m a mess right now, inside out. But if there’s one thing I am sure of, it is that I love you. I still do. It fucking hurts but I still love you the same. You can’t ask me to forget you, I won’t. You are one hell of a chapter and it’ll be hard for me to go on to the next one but I will eventually. Only time can tell. It’s not something I can just do no matter how much I instruct myself to. And if you still want to watch Ed Sheeran on March, that’d be fine with me. We bought the tickets, it’s just right if we will watch it together. His music brought us together and maybe through it we can part in much better way.