It took me two hours and two envelopes to put in two years of memories, away, maybe for good or for bad. Though those two hours were marred with a lot of crying, reading those letters reminded me of the good times, which were in abundance.
I’m still lost and confused as to why and how this happened, I always thought that maybe I’m not the kind who would be devastated when my love walks out and I’m not totally devastated apart from the consistent pain, lack of sleep and unusual bouts of tears.
I thought maybe since he was a 1500 kilometers away, it would be easy, but how wrong am I?! Earlier, I could atleast meet him to talk it out, to check if it could be salvaged in any way but now the only thing that I can do is either think about him or dream. I can’t give him a call and talk because he is difficult to talk to and meeting him is out of the question.
I do realize that I’m probably trying to increase the shelf life of a relationship that will meet its end but I can’t help but hope. My head understands but my heart doesn’t.
Today morning while I was at the post office to courier his letters and the little gifts he gave me, back to him, I had a massive panic attack, knowing that this would be the very last time that I could look at these letters. Maybe I shouldn’t have posted them, but if I didn’t then I doubt if I could ever move on since I keep reading these letters whenever I miss him or just wear his vest for a while and smell it despite the vest losing his raw body smell.
I miss him and there is no running away from this.
I tell people that I’m fine despite getting teary eyed and having a choking voice. Maybe someday this pain will go away; maybe I will finally be able to sleep, peacefully, be it for one night atleast.
In one of the letters he had written that if incase any day we did break up, I should remember that the letters were just a little glimpse of how much he loved me.
When ever did these love filled words turn bitter? I don’t know and maybe I never will..