a love letter


dear boy,

i would have asked you if you saw the moon and how did it look on your side of the town ? as per usual, mine got hidden with clouds and fog and still the brilliance of the moon tried to cheer me up…

but today, i loved you. i loved you in a complicated and compromising and confusing way that made me uncomfortable and unapologetic. i loved you and i’m stupid, so stupid, stupid in the way i’d never able to keep my hands off of you given the circumstances, stupid in the way i’d spill the secrets i never knew i had, stupid in the way i’d cry every time i got too close to opening up and letting go, stupid in the way i’m  reckless and bold. but i love you. i am sure of that, no matter how many silences, awkward half-conversations, moments when we spit words like daggers and nights i soak the sheets with hot salt water tears.

i’m careless and consumed, you know.

you need not worry about things unnecessarily, you know, as i haven’t yet decided if i wanted to fuck you. as much as i am consumed by the thoughts of you touching me, i haven’t masturbated to the thoughts of you or touched myself screaming your name… so you see, you can relax and can be yourself.

maybe it’s a feeling. or a four-letter word. this love of mine. i am not sure.

you see, i keep on making up things in the dark so the monsters under my bed won’t devour me. i try to fill the void with the overused memories of you and like everything else, you will fade as well leaving only smeared red lipstick which turns black. i am not planning to dress up as yours.

i just talk to you in my writings. maybe because you’re one of the ghosts i am growing comfortable with. i don’t mind you haunting me if it’s the only way that i can remember that you existed. sometimes, i think i only imagined you in my mind. but then i see you. i’m too old to have imaginary friends but then again i only exist in my imagination.  somewhere, somehow my younger self refused to live in this reality which is unbearable and hellish and i retreated into another world. but you, you’re also some kind of hell.

i trace your shadow in places i haven’t been. i picture you sitting across me at a dinner table; lying next to me and having conversations… i guess you can never unlearn what you never knew. you are a bittersweet mystery that will always cling to my mind and your name will dance on my tongue. my words will always build themselves in a memorial of my love for you.

but if i were being honest here, broken is a word that describes me often. i just like writing you into hundreds of pages because, you and i, we’re more beautiful on paper. there’s magic in being a poison to each other. the happy ending is the space between us. i don’t think i’d get over you.

i just want you to know that i think every single time you read my words and feel you can connect to them in a sort of complicated way, every time you feel a tiny bit inspired by this to shake your own dust and be brave in facing the things you keep tucked in your pockets, each time you have something to say and are unsure of how to say it but will one day. in many ways i am just messy and confused as what i want and who i am but i promise you that sometimes i wake up, days like today, and it scares the hell out of me, makes me want to put all the covers over my head, but it also pushes me and drives me. i’m not one to admit when something is changing me and illuminating the path ahead with a spark and a twist of a fate i never even expected, but this project, this small attempt at filling loneliness up with words and chances to let go and hold on at all once, it is waking me up and letting me know that i can do this, i can do all of this, but i am sure, positive, that i couldn’t do this without you.

so with everything i’ve got and all the things i am still unsure how to give, thank you.

signed solemnly,


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