Dear me —
… no, not today...
Dear J.,
Hello, it's me.
I'm not here to ask you stupid questions that only flatter my ego.
Do you remember me?
Did you really love me?
I don't need to ask.
I know you did.
I know you do.
And in some way — I know you always will.
—
I just didn't know why I came.
Not until I spent three days staring at the screen, trying to press send.
I couldn't.
Because the truth is —
I don't even know what I want from you.
Closure?
Proof that I still matter?
Approval for who I am now?
To show you that I became better — because I did?
To make you regret letting me go?
Maybe all of it.But none of it is a second chance.
And that's the only thing that actually matters.
—
I spent a lifetime trying to belong to someone, somewhere.
And somehow —
I finally belong to myself.
It's been seven years.
And you gave me silence.
So I learned how to speak it too.
And now I understand —
you closed this book a long time ago.
And you never came back to read it again.
—
I think I was born with a broken heart.
I just didn't understand it until I met you.
I didn't know I wasn't whole.
You made me feel oceans, forests, winds, hands, kisses.
The fucking earth was in your eyes.
And maybe that was always the point.
Not forever.
Just once.
Just enough.
—
I crossed the sea back to London,
thinking I needed something from you.Forgiveness.
Answers.
Something to end it properly.
But I don't.
I don't need your forgiveness anymore.
I am tired.
I'm not in love with you anymore.
And I can't keep punishing myself anymore.
But I will always love you —
in every song we loved,
in every story we thought would be ours,
in every version of me that existed with you.
A moment no one can erase.
Not time.
Not distance.
Not people.
—
Dear me,
not everything continues.
But it stays, in a capsule called memory.
Exactly where we were.
Untouched.
Unchanged.
—
Dear J.,
Forever yours.Forever 2019.
Forever London.
Tanya.
—
I never pressed send.