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From Our Readers: To the Ghost of My Past Love

I know you are my sweetest memory.
ART Trixie Ison

Who are you right now? I don't know. The "you" that I know, the "you" that I familiarized my heart with, he's already dead. But for me, that "you" never died. You continued to haunt me everywhere, torturing me with what ifs, asking questions without providing any answers at all. And who knows, this might be my eulogy to everything that happened between us, to the love I once felt, to the memories I've become so fond of. Rest in peace.

Let me recall everything.

I know you are my sweetest memory. I only have memories of you to live by. I only have faint memories of your smile and your laughter and your rib cage and your skinny body and your big hands and your deep voice and your big nose and well, everything about you. Everything that used to be you.

Maybe this is why I should forget you. You are just a lingering ghost, a memory. You are my dream and now, you no longer seem a person to me. You've become way too fictional, way too perfect for me. You are just a memory, so maybe I should start making new ones. You are just a ghost, so maybe I should learn to let go of the dead.

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So... Who am I to you? Maybe I'm just your cold cup of coffee, waiting to be appreciated, but I can never match her cup of tea. Maybe I'm just the lyric you always forget, waiting to be remembered, but I can never match the rhythm of her song. Maybe I'm just the key you always misplace, waiting to be found, but I can never open your heart the way her key does. Maybe I'm just the little kid who wishes on a star; I try to pretend the star is you, and like the star, you're so distant to talk back. I'll always be your biggest what if, your almost; and almost is and will never be enough.

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Maybe I should stop trying to be a different person I am not for you. Maybe I should stop aspiring to be more like other people. After all, it was a privilege to have loved you, and it was also a privilege to have my heart broken by you.

The distance between us - both literally and figuratively - I cannot feel it, for I see you everywhere. I see you in guitars, I see you in anime shows, I see you in the books I read, I see you in the place where I first met you. I see you in my past, I see you in my future, and I almost see you in my present. Maybe one day you'll stumble upon this letter. Maybe one day I'll stop writing letters with my name hidden under anagrams, for I lack the courage to vent it all out to you. Maybe one day I'll be precious enough to belong in your memory too. Maybe one day you'll remember that I was the one who really cared, your second option who never made you an option at all. Maybe one day you'll stare into the cup of coffee you made, because its color reminded you how brown my eyes are. Maybe one day you'll regret and wish that the almost happened, for that's what has been haunting me for years. Maybe one day we'll see that all the nostalgic cliffhangers between us will be filled with great plot twists and morals to learn from.

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But you know what, I'm grateful. I am more than happy that for once, I made you feel special. I made you feel appreciated. I made you feel loved. I made you realize how great of a person you were, or are. I might have been deprived to feel the same things from you or to receive answers for my unanswered questions, but at least I had someone to offer my feelings to. I'm grateful that I've lived those five years continually being haunted and guarded by your ghost, my ghost of almost, for I have become braver, stronger. Better. And almost ready to love a new living soul, not a ghost.

Sent in by Louishana J. Arridge. Got your own story to tell? Drop us an email at candymagazine @gmail.com! We'd love to hear what you have to say. If you're lucky, you just might get published in this space, too! Please indicate if you want to remain anonymous. We're also looking for artwork and illustrations to use with the stories, so please send some in if you want to be featured!

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