dear june;
I’ve struggled to write this for a few days now, because I know there’s no surpassing my first letter, but here goes nothing.
If I told you I didn’t remember the day we met, I’d be lying. I remember you reached out to me for help with something, and for some reason, you responded the next day when I asked how you were doing. I don’t remember why I felt the need to message you again, but little did I know, that message would lead to a three year long friendship. Those three years would be some of the best, yet simultaneously worst, years of my life. There would be months where we were inseparable , and there would be months where I was convinced you didn’t need me anymore. The latter months were the worst at the time. I was on the verge of cutting my life short, all because you weren’t there when I needed you most. The months we were together at all times would ruin me once our time ran out. Those months were great when they happened, but they would eventually leave a bitter taste in my heart.
You ruined me in every aspect possible. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have friends again without the constant reminder that they aren’t you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love someone as wholeheartedly as I loved you, because even though I was the one to say goodbye first, it broke me that you didn’t bother fighting.
I’ve heard people in my life tell me that if you really love somebody, you’re willing to fight for them, and maybe you didn’t love me at all, regardless of the connotations. You seemed happy to be rid of me in the weeks following the end of us, and that’s what tore me apart. The fact that you moved on so quickly, unlike me.
“I loved you as Icarus loved the sun. Too close, too much.” I’ve been thinking a lot about that quote, and it’s quite telling of my life. I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame, and you scarred and left me like a sunburn.
You were the element of chaos in my life, whether you realize it or not. You tore up everything in your wake, and by the time you left, there was nothing left of me. There were only shards of my glass heart, the only thing present on the empty wasteland you created from us.
I will never understand how someone as innocent looking as you managed to ruin some of the best things to ever happen to me, but looks can be deceiving. My mother warned me about you, and how no matter what we told each other, there would always be something that you kept from me, and damn it was she right.
Well, that concludes my second letter to you. Maybe one day you’ll understand the state you’ve left me in, but I’m not counting on it.
Sincerely, The Icarus to your Sun