Dear Darling

I couldn’t come up for a better way to address you, because I don’t understand many things at the moment, other than my need to write something down. It’s 2am in the morning, and I haven’t been able to rest properly since the last time I saw you.

Can you believe a week has now turned into two? And in a blink of both of our eyes, this month will be done and I’ll be at your door again. But unlike last time, not with the same bravo and excitement and nervousness.

I write this now, and I know with undoubted truth that in two weeks, I’ll be at your door, and those emotions from the past will be replaced with a heavy heart, months worth of questions created by months of emotional suppression, and will probably leave with tears in my eyes.

Because, the last time I heard from you, you broke my heart. Into a million little pieces. I leaned on alcohol heavily, drinking with amazing and helpful friends after class… that didn’t know I’d drink myself to sleep, or keep something on me at times for when I “needed it”. To say I was a wreck is an understatement- I’m surprised I even have a liver or any money left, because I burned through pay checks for a bit of alcohol, even when I needed the money. It’s better now, don’t worry- it’s under control. But, I’d be a fool to not admit that I did see the end of us being a thing coming.

In the span of a couple weeks of me moving to my second home in two months, assignments and exams hitting me from all sides, I lost you. I didn’t realize it till the hours of conversations dwindled down to after thought responses. I reacted the worst way possible and for that, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t give you the proper space that you needed. You kept telling me that something was up, that things weren’t right, but I was too pre-occupied with the anger and jealously and confusion that came with you not wanting to tell me, and deciding to hang out with your friends instead of telling me what was wrong.

I realized my faults a little too late, and blamed myself for a long time for not grasping that you are human too- with your own life and problems separate from my own. From us. I spent too much time and energy thinking that maybe if we worked things out, together, things would be okay. But you didn’t want too, and it made me angrier, so when you ended it, I was sad that it was over (I was hoping a part of you wanted to hold on), but I knew it had to be.

In the five months apart, we’ve seen other people- I’ve had my fair share of confusion, heartbreak (I call it that, but thinking back on it now, he was trash and actually didn’t handle things like an adult at the end), and fun, and after seeing you two weeks ago, so have you. Well, at least the fun part, I didn’t get around to asking you about anything else because I wasn’t in the right state of mind.

Anyways, what I’m trying to say is, clearly, after seeing you last week- I mean, two weeks ago- we clearly still feel something for each other. You’ve admitted you felt guilty about how you ended things, shed some light as to where you were when it all went down, but you didn’t talk about anything else- we kinda fell back into our old selves, before the one-sided conversations, the tears, and mixed signals. Trust me when I said I didn’t want that moment, that piece of quiet and normalcy and… comfort to end.

For a millisecond, we were back to being just two young fools crazy about each other.

But the world doesn’t work that way, and living like that will hurt us more than whatever we’re doing. Or it’ll hurt me more, because I know how I feel and I didn’t ask you about yours. But I know you, or at least I did- this is the weird thing with time, no matter how long or short of it, it can change us faster than we can comprehend. I’d like to think I still do.

This isn’t love, but this isn’t entirely lust. We don’t hate each other, but the affection we have now is cautious because we’re afraid of overstepping boundaries. We’re able to just sink back to our old habits, but enough time has passed that we know we aren’t the same people we were five months ago- we’re fragments of that person. This isn’t an illusion, but what we’re doing now isn’t entirely real.

So when I see you in two weeks, I’ll be asking some heavy questions. I want to ease my mind. I probably won’t get the right responses, and I’m bracing myself for that, but I hope you understand that this will help. That I need this. That we both do.

I’d say I was sorry for doing such a thing, but I’m not. We need to stop acting like those two young crazy fools and start acting like adults who genuinely give a fuck about one another. My apologizes ended when I realized I was being selfish while you were in pain. But I have nothing left to apologize for. A wise woman once told me that when we’re into another person, we tend to forget their faults. And she was right about that- and then some. When I see you in two weeks, I’ll be there asking the heavy questions and not holding back with what I feel.

Because the tickets are booked and paid for, and my schedule is cleared, so this is happening whether we like it or not. Whether we’re ready or not.

But until then, just know I still care, and I hope you have a good night. Things are rough right now for the both of us, but tomorrow’s a new day, and closer to the end of this slump that we’re in.

Keep holding on.

Love,

Muffin.

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