The possibility of you and me finding each other again one day seems to be impossible now. And for the first time, I feel fine about it. I have held on for so long to that feeble hope that maybe one day, you'll walk in again in my life and stay for good, it was what kept me going. I used to believe that I would only be truly happy when, not if, that happens. I stopped myself from being inside another possibility because I was afraid of being taken far from the possibility of being with you again. I refused to write another story because I believed that you would come back and write with me. I thought our story was only suspended in time, and that we were only halfway through. I refused to accept that there are no pages left for us to write on, that maybe, all we were was all there was to it.
I refused to write another story because I believed that you would come back and write with me.
You see, you were the last good thing that happened to me, and I was afraid that you were the last and I let you slip away. Now, I realized that maybe, just maybe, being happy does not necessarily mean that I would get the future I was hoping for. Maybe, if I stopped my entire world from revolving around our memories, maybe if I allow myself to lose gravity by letting go, maybe I would find another way to survive.
It took me a long while to accept that some phenomenon only occur once, and I guess, that should be enough. You were something good that I have been given, and I can't really say that I took good care of you when I still had the chance.
I made myself believe that we were destined to meet, that our souls were arranged by the universe, like constellations, to form something beautiful. Whatever it was, there was a reason behind our meeting, and I use to believe that that reason is because we are for each other. But as how some people say, there will be people who will walk in on your life, only to leave—and leave their mark: A lesson that will scar you for the rest of your life. But this scar, contrary to what is believed about scars, will not show how imperfect you are. This one, though it will come from a nasty wound, will instill beauty in you after it heals.
I thought you were the person I was bound to love forever, because you were the one who opened my eyes to this bittersweet emotion. Now that I've grown to understand things more, I realize that you were put in my life to make me realize that despite all the things I hate about myself. Someone, someone who's as weird and as crazy as you will find me and love me as I am.
I'm making a promise to myself as I write this that this will be the last letter I will write for you, and this will be the last time I will write about you.
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