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Dear K,
I can't believe that I'm writing yet another letter to you. Yet another text you will never read. Yet another text that I write about you on some random website. It will be lost in here forever and nobody will remember by words. Not even myself. And least of all you.
How are you? I'm just wondering.
It's so hard to judge, now that you won't look into my eyes anymore.
You don't even say goodbye anymore.
Is it wrong to assume that asking you about your feelings would be too personal?
There's so much I still have to tell you. So much I still want you to know, even now, after things between us have finally cooled down a bit. But I know that I will never again speak to you. Not really. Not openly. I'm just too afraid of ripping some old wounds open again, you know?
The thing is just... I wasn't lying when I told you that I loved you. At that time, you meant the world to me. I was willing to give everything for you. I knew that we were different, I always knew that. But I was young and desperate and madly in love - so much that I just didn't care. I'm shy, you know that. The fact that I told you how I feel nonetheless... I swallowed all my pride and tore apart all the walls guarding my soul. For you.
I'm so sorry you never saw it that way. I don't think you ever understood how much it actually meant that I told you how I feel. That always means a lot, obviously. But this time it was coming from somebody like me, somebody who usually doesn't even dare to say "Hi" first on the hallway.
Anyway, I don't blame you for not understanding. How could I? I have never quite understood you either.
All the things you said and all the things you didn't do. To be honest, there was a time when I hated you for all of that. I hated you for ignoring me after telling me that you like me.
God, I know you're shy too. I know we're both goddamn awkward people and probably I've been ignoring you a bit too, after my great confession. Sure. But it was you who stopped replying. You, who refused to meet up with me again. You, who didn't manage to tell me how our future should look.
It seems to me like you're choking on something. Are you choking on me?
I don't know if I will ever be able to forgive you. I gave you my heart, for the first time ever in my young life I gave someone my heart, and you took it, promised to treasure it, and threw it into a dirty drawer full of rubbish, not willing to look at it again. At least that's how I feel.
Who knows, maybe you have your reasons. You probably have.
I'd like to hear them some day, but at the same time I know that I probably couldn't stand it. Did you lie when you told me you loved me, or is there something else? Are you too afraid of this? Why, just why, why the fuck did you run away?
Whatever you were thinking... It doesn't really matter anymore. That's what I want you to know. Whatever it was... I used to hate you and I used to feel horrible because of you. But its okay now. I think I can accept the fact that something just wasn't right between the two of us. And although I still don't understand why you acted like that... I think I can let go. I probably already have.
I'm not mad at you anymore.
Maybe because I don't care enough about you anymore. I don't really know, but that's what J. thinks.
If my calculations are correct, there are no more than three hours left. 180 minutes. And then we will never have to see each other again. We will never have to concentrate on our efforts to not notice each other again. We will be free again.
I would say goodbye to you and wish you a good future and a happy life, if we talked. And maybe I will, even like this.
Simply because I think you deserve it.
I still want you to be happy.
Not with me, not anymore, but I guess some things just never change.
Maybe... Maybe this is the reason why I'm writing to you of all people. Maybe after all the only thing I still want to tell you is that you were once a really, really special person to me. I still think that you're an incredibly nice guy who will make his next girlfriend very happy. Believe me, I'm trying to forgive you. And I wish you well.
Sincerely.
I hope you will have the happiest and most fulfilled life you can imagine. - And I hope you remember the good side of me. Just forget the awkward silence if you don't have enough room in your brain for all of the two of us.
Good luck on your journey, K.
If you see a comment that is unsupportive or unfriendly, please report it using the flag button.
I read this through so many times hoping it was about me :(
ReplyWho knows, maybe it is? I'd be so happy if it was about you. Do you want to tell me your name?
ReplyYou know, the more I think about it, the more I hope that you are K.
It would be perfect - we could both peacefully walk away into opposite directions and leave all the past behind for good.
And there are indicators that make it seem possible (as unlikely as it may be). If the few pieces of specific information that I gave you in my letter seemed to fit to your situation... Maybe. Who knows.
Your reply also makes it seem a bit more likely. The structure of your sentence sounds a bit unusual in English, it's shaped in the way a German would put it. I'm German, are you? (If you aren't German and you read this... Please be kind enough to reply nonetheless. I'd appreciate knowing whether you are K. or not.)
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