From Me, To You

Tuesday 16th June - 23:45

Dear Ven,

I wonder. Shall I continue to call you by such an endearing name? It feels sweet and playful, reminding me of us during simpler times. Yet it also brings up the painful reality that one day you may decide you have simply had enough and you choose to walk away and leave me behind. Discarded. Forgotten. Imbued with a dreadful loneliness that evokes a death like stillness. To think that uttering a simple nickname would bring up this much pain, this much of an ache, threatening to tear me at the seams of my heart strings so much so that each tug evokes a heavy weight, impossible to remove. Or should I call you by a name that is not used by me, yet encompasses your identity. As I type your name, I have your surname automatically suggested by my keyboard because I use your name countlessly, so it made sense to use it again now too. Would it be more acceptable to call you by "_____" in what feels like this epistolary novel? I'm not sure. Perhaps I shall refer to you simply as "friend" yet that term leaves me shaken, lying awake even now as I try to force my eyelids to close, as if that term carries the anchoring weight of such a cruel reality. Where "friend" automatically means i have lost you as mine, lost the right to call you mine, lost the right to keep you as mine. Where "friend" automatically means I'm watching you walk your path alone, walk a path that leads you so far out of my reach and into the reaches of another. And just knowing that you would love and be loved by another woman who isn't me, blinds me with a shameful rage. A selfishness I am too ashamed to admit I have. A selfishness that continues to cause you endless pain. A selfishness that prevents me from being willing to let you go. A selfishness that carries from the fragility of my heart, as if the bones of my rib cage are promising to tear themselves apart, snake their way towards you and pull you into my chest where they shall keep you with an iron grip, ensuring you never escape. That selfishness is turning me obsessive. An obsession I have over you that controls me to the point of utter darkness. But an obsession that recognises you as a sole light. Perhaps that's why my obsession leads to you? Because you are the very thing that appears to provide any sense of salvation to a soul trapped in an endless chamber, a weak soul who can see nothing but darkness engulfing, swallowing her whole each second your light slips further and further out of sight. I write this as my eyes remain heavy, yet unable to close, hinged permanently awake. As if writing this will somehow find itself to you, wrapped in a sort of innocent swaddle to rekindle the love we share inherently; a deep, undeniable devotion. Because my heart, body and soul crave for it's missing parts. The parts that you piece together with yours to make me whole. With your absence, breaking apart every bond that my body is desperately trying to pathetically stitch back together. I guess calling you anything here is futile, as my mind continues to reel in memories and thoughts of only you. Like the pond of my mind has frozen over and all I see are remnants of you. Remnants which i want to dig through the ice to gather and piece together again. Remnants of that bridge we had, which interconnected us in hearts and souls, burnt by my inability to cope and to relay who I am without being caught in the constant crossfire of suspicion and doubt. I truly have nothing to blame but myself for the events that have since transpired. The events which have undoubtedly created a hurricane spiral into unwinding chaos and uncertainty. As i lay here awake, I lament on what we were, I desperately try to cling to what we are and I cry in pain for the uncertainty of what we will be. As my insomnia continues to torture me heavily, the weight of my past sins continue to drag me down to the core of the earth as if the force stops my breath and pulls the chains of guilt tighter around my cracking limbs. I have lately been neglecting myself. Forgetting to take my medicine. When that despicable creature would force himself onto me, i used to wish terribly for a painful end. That future looks more and more promising. Perhaps i should avoid medication and allow the release of an earlier, more painful death to take me? A death that would save me from being present in a world where my heart has disconnected? If that wish could come true, then i also wish for you. I wish for us now. And i wish for us to the future. A powerful wish, a miracle for you to clear your every suspicion, doubt and regret of meeting me. And to start anew. I retched as I forced the pill down my throat and it reminded me of earlier when the memories came back to you. I had disconnected momentarily from the game, but in that moment, I also disconnected from real life. I felt such an intense retching from the pits of my stomach. As if my own body had started to feel nauseated at the thought of myself and I had to empty everything out at once. I was tempted to sleep without having used any skin creams either. A perfect representation of how the dreadful ugliness of my exterior should be necessary in mirroring the dreadful ugliness of my interior. Yet I am driven by the most teeniest of glints that you will ever reconsider taking me back. I decided to invest the time into that self care because I want to be beautiful for you. I hope you are sleeping well my love. For it is too difficult, I have come to the conclusion, too painful to simply call you "friend".

Truly and forever fighting to be, once again, irreplaceably yours.