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Russian dachas by Fyodor Savintsev

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“Looking back I realized you never really loved me. Yes you liked me, and yes we had a good time, but it was never love. The truth is you were, and still are, in love with her. I never knew her, but when someone mentioned her your eyes lit up. And even though all you could do was complain, I knew that you weren’t over her. Every poem you ever wrote was about her, and even though you knew she was toxic you couldn’t help but continue to love her with all your heart. And I know you tried to make things work, and I don’t blame you for it not. I was different, very different. She was reckless and daring, every corner was a new adventure. Her kiss felt like lightning running through your veins, and everything about her was a new type of exciting. I am gentle and calm, the type of person no one looks at more than once. I’ll kiss away the pain and hold you when your heart just can’t take it anymore. But I am nothing like her. She made you feel everything all at once, while I just held your hand and took it one day at a time. It’s okay though, I’m not upset. You needed something stable, something you could rely on, and I was just that, nothing more. Some may say you used me, but I think you were just trying to find yourself without her. I hope one day you find happiness and realize how great you really are, and find someone who makes you feel how I felt with you.”

— To someone who I thought was the Universe, but I was just a star