A letter for us
This is a letter for her, and for me.
She’s gone and all of my coping system starts to kick off brutally and emphatically in me. Maybe I’m just writing this as a coping mechanism to finally open the door to let her go. Only know that I love her when I let go of something so dearly to me. She’s gone, yet I can’t hate her for it. She’s gone, but I can’t stop loving her. I can’t lie that everytime my phone lit up, some part of me hoped that it was you that texted me. Everytime I open my Instagram and upload something, some part of me is still happy and hopeful when I see her name across all of the names that have seen my post. I can’t force us back and yet there’s hope clinging around and making things impossible feels like something that is up for grab.
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Losing you is already hard, but losing the future that we dreamt together was even harder. I’m losing some part of myself, the one part that has you in it for the future. I used to and still imagine us sitting together in my motorcycle, just the two of us against the world, holding each other close, hearts even closer, fingers entwined, your head on my shoulder, and full of warmth. Don’t know what the world would bring but as long as we’ve got each other, we know that we are okay. Dreaming about what the future would bring, our plans, the places we always want to visit, and we said “maybe one day”. And then it snapped, I realized I hung onto those three words so much that it made me lose direction for a time. Back then, it was full of excitement for the future that was waiting for us, and now it felt different. Maybe one day she’ll come back, maybe one day we can be together, maybe one day we’ll get the future we used to dream of.
It was the hope that killed me. It made me stand still while thinking that I am actually moving forward. Waiting and hoping that things would change when it was impossible to change and waiting for a second chance that was never promised. I’m stuck in a cycle of bargaining. What if I’m not that demanding? What if I was there for her? What if we’re not divided by space? What if I’m better? Would it change something? Maybe, but then, maybe love is not us trying to be enough, maybe love is accepting who we actually are to be chosen. Maybe love is not trying to be chosen but getting chosen without the need to constantly prove that we are actually enough.
I don’t regret the times that we’ve had together, I don’t regret all the dreams we built, and I don’t regret loving you. Because for a while, it was real and I know that I’m chosen and that she is chosen. I hope life would give you anything that you’ve dreamed of, all the adventures, the places you wanted to visit, your plans, study, job, and the love you always deserve. And as for me, I’ll wait and maybe one day I’ll sit on my motorcycle with someone who chooses to stay, forever.
