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| Photo by Marie-Michèle Bouchard on Unsplash |
I already can sense you will say this the first time you read this letter.
"..but I'm sorry if you feel that way."
you will continue. Why does saying sorry seem so easy for you to say?
"Sorry if you feel that way."
"Sorry that I can't always be there."
You think that I will always be forgiving, don't you? That I will always be there for you no matter what happens—like what I've written in my letters.
Cause indeed I do. Forgiving you was easy, but healing from its pain was another thing.
Looking back, I haven't been in a good state, mentally and emotionally, since 2018. The year (I thought) I lose you. I cried a lot. I never knew that losing you could hurt this much. Losing your presence, losing your daily or weekly news, losing the friendship. Losing us.
I also feel like I'm losing myself more and more since you're the only one who knew me well. Back then.
There were days when I was tired to pretend that everything's alright; that you and I are in an okay-ish state. Those days were days I want to snap at you, "what's up with us?! We're not okay, something's off. Don't you feel it?"
Being your friend for more than a decade makes me realize that you are the kind of person who will turn a blind eye to situations you don't fancy to. Acting like things were the same—that we're alright—but there was a new distance around each of us.
I hate it and I miss you. So much.
I hate inventing you, scripting your lines, instead of having the original. I could write a thousand dialogues between us. Like when we talk about the places we've been, the things we've done, or the jokes we've laughed about.
And now, I can only reminisce all those things.
But hey, I think I need closure. Can we talk soon?
Love,
NM.
