The last thing I'll write about you

It’s one in a billion chances to be with someone who doesn’t have to complete you, and who you don’t have to complete. And with that, I had you. We never had to complete each other. Even if you leave me, I knew I’d survive.

We had something, somehow, we had it. But I’m not sure which it was: a love that remained uncalled for, or the love we intended to go by.

You didn’t have to leave for me to know that it was you whom I have loved genuinely, because I knew that all along. I knew that ever since you taught me the meaning of unrequited happiness behind a washed-up photograph, or when you held my hand as if everything’s going to fall apart if you didn’t, or during that moment that lasted a second, when you told me, for the first time, that you love me. From then on, I knew I have loved you, too.

Then, I left. And, you did, as well.

I left even though my arms are itching to embrace you, even though my heart is telling me to go back for you, to listen to the voices going on in my head and go back to building sandcastles in a wet pavement. We both knew it had to be done. We have to go our own ways, we have to write along a paper with erasures of the lines that were written there before separately, we have to open a chapter that has neither you nor I in it. And you have to sketch a new beginning, because while I was writing a new one for me, you’ve been trying so hard to spill the bottle of ink on the page where I left you, just so I would have to begin with a different course, the one where I never left.

But the thing that hurt the most was when I left knowing you’d wait for me, and when I came back to check, you left me with nothing but an old, wind-up candy wrapper with a note, the one I gave you on your birthday, teared up by rats and covered with mire. I took that as a clue that you’ve left a long time ago, and you didn’t come back.

That’s when I realized, we didn’t have to complete each other, but all along, I was incomplete, yet when I am with you, it felt as if I never was.

Published by Jamie K.


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