Dear you, I will always love you.


Dear baby,
Dear you,

It’s your birthday soon. And also the one year mark of our breakup; my time is almost up. Although I guess I’ve come to realize that I’ve been playing this game by myself.

Dear you,

I want to wish you happy birthday. How have you been doing? I hope you’re doing well. …or perhaps I don’t mean that fully?

Dear you,

I heard you’re in UK on exchange. Jealous, much! And here I am, rotting away in this miserable place. All that time together, not even a chance to go to Malaysia and now you’re in the UK.

Dear you,

I no longer think of you everyday—well, I still think of you often, but the thoughts are much, much less loaded. More matter of fact. They come and go and I don’t pay particular notice to them.

Dear you.

Sometimes I still think negative thoughts—it’s really beyond my comprehension and it really hurts me to think that— you seem to have no inclinations whatsoever to reach out to me. That it’s fine with you if we never speak or meet again, or if I never forgive you. Like you have genuinely successfully earased me completely from your consciousness, and you’re fine with that. Don’t you at least want to be friends? You’re okay with leaving things in this state?

Dear you.

Sometimes, when I think those thoughts, I get angry. Why should I always be the one bothering? Why should I always be the one reaching out? If you don’t care enough even to give me proper replies or return me my stuff even though you promised to, why should I bother? I should just write you off the way you seem to have written me off.

Dear you.

I try to remind myself that… we shouldn’t fixate on the actions of others. We can’t control those. And you’ll never know the full story. Instead, concentrate more on our own actions—the ones we can control. So it doesn’t matter what you do, I should care about what I want to do. What do I want to do?

Dear you.

I thought I was ready, but when I found out that you’re in the UK—when I imagined you having the time of your life, without me–it was an unexpected blow. Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought I was…

Dear you.

Sometimes I wonder, if reaching out to you—wanting to be friends again—is the ‘Right’ thing to do. Even if this, “We must remain friends no matter what happens.”, was my first promise to you and me, said with the greatest conviction. If it’s so difficult for me, maybe I should just forget it. Who says that’s the ‘Right’ thing to do anyway? People move on, move away. It doesn’t matter. And isn’t it possible that my desire to meet up isn’t entirely innocent, doesn’t stem solely from ‘wanting to be friends’? Should I forget it?

Dear you,

I miss you. Do you miss me? Do you think of me?

Dear you,

It’s been nearly a year. Am I ready?

I guess it doesn’t matter so much if it’s the ‘Right’ thing to do (afterall, there’s no such thing) as much as… it’s what I think I should do. I can’t picture any other path that wouldn’t feel… wrong. Like I’m running away.

Dear you,

I’ll going to have to keep my promise to myself, regardless of what you do or don’t do.

Dear you,

I miss you. I hope you’re doing well.

Dear you,

I will always, always love you.

And I have been learning to be okay with that.

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