Love was different for us. We never had the kind of love where most people could say “That’s normal” or “Typical love story”, we had what some people would call “Crazy and delusional” or “Impossible”. Yes, our love did not coincide with others’ definition of love, but, it was the realest, truest and wonderful experience I have ever had. You were the reason why I stayed up until 1am, and fell hard in love by 2. You were the reason why I studied the art of staying up all night, because finally, something was more important than getting an 8-hour sleep. You were never the clingy type, you prefer being alone, although we were dating already. You never nagged me on where I should be or who I should be with, you let me be. Your independence made me fell even more in love with you. Loving you was like reading a book, you were the type of girl most people would think only exists in books, flawed as you are, but still you managed to be perfect, I don’t know how you do that. You did nothing, all you did was be you, and it was only a matter of time before I realized that perfection was chasing after you, and you never even know that. You are the very reason why I fell in love with the feeling of being wide awake at 12 midnight, the reason why I write about the stars, or why I am so in love with the moon, because when I look at you, I see the entire universe glimmering inside you. Even the words fall madly in love with you every time I see you smile. I never really liked writing love poems, but somehow, you found your way with words and end up existing in paper. You’re my favourite mix of sunrise and sunset. I never really knew the meaning of what love is, until I met you. You had a very weird taste in love, really. In my own observation, for you, love wasn’t a bunch of flower and a box of chocolates, or a candle light dinner, although you fancied trying one. For you, love was a bunch of maybe’s and what if’s, love was letting you stand on your own but backing you up when you fall. For you, love was sharing one ice cream cone, or sharing that watermelon-flavoured lollipop you always liked, or even sharing the same toothbrush. As gross as it may sound to others, you fancied on these things, and I love you for that. I love how you would tell me the book you bought the other other day, with that big grin on your face, or how your eyes would lit up every time you see something you like. I love how you look at the things that makes you happy or sparks your interest, I love that passionate and intense look in your eyes. I love the way you describe me, like describing a character in your favourite book. I love how you fell apart in my room that night you told me your mother scold you, you were sobbing for almost an hour because your mother rarely scold you, and I just listened there quietly and held you so tight. I love seeing how you fall apart with the things that makes you feel alive. I love you even at your worst days, when you don’t feel like talking to anyone, including me. I get that feeling too, and I understand. I could write you all the things I loved about you, but the list just goes on and on, I love you for all the infinite reasons I have, but I love you for the person you are. I thought we really did have a shot at something, we had something worth fighting for, after all, until our fears, our beliefs and even our own selves got in the way. I could no longer protect you from your fears and my demons are getting louder that you can no longer hush them. When you left, you won’t believe me, but I have been dreaming about you more often than I should be. I have been thinking about you more often and have been more worried about where you’ve been or who you’re with than I have been when we were still together. As cliché as this might get, not a second in a single day felt right. And that’s when it hit it me, I have loved you deeply and true, that when we said our farewells, it never felt like saying goodbye to you, but rather saying goodbye to myself, saying goodbye to a part of me. After you left, I was never the same. So before I start residing in your memories, and you, gets hidden away in my secret closet, here’s my one last grand gesture: I may not have the enough courage to tell the world how much I love you, but I could write to the world how much you mean to me. I want you to know that you will always be the name my heart carves in the surface of the heavenly bodies. You will always be the wish I’ll whisper at a shooting star, hoping someday, when I bump into you, my eyes will find its way back again to start a riot in you. Until then, I could only wish you happiness and well, hoping you’re thinking the same of me.
An Open Letter to the Lover I Walked Away From, While I’m Still Hopelessly Captivated by Them - EJ Riconella