To,

The dearest, most loved,

I think a lot of falling happens when, through time, in between little unsuspecting moments, through superficial conversations and shallow talk, you realise, “perhaps, this is the one person I’ve been longing for all my life to open champagne bottles with for the rest of my life”. That’s when we fall for someone. When we imagine waking up next to that person only to see the other still almost asleep, pulling the blanket to cover the eyes against the morning sunlight leaking through the curtain slits. When we imagine baking tier cakes together on uneventful days for fun.

And all the things you loved, I loved a bit more than before. And all the places you visited, I started visiting on random days hoping I’d see you there. I remember, how you told me about your favourite scene from a movie, and I had stayed up nights rewatching the same sixteen-second scene over and over. The scene kind of grew on me at last. I remember how we once talked about our favourite colours and I remember seeing the junior school child in you when you went on ranting about your favourite colour and all the things in the world you’d like to be that colour. Post that conversation, I have maintained I have two favourite colours.

One time, I remember taking the long route only to be able to see you, and when I did see you, I purposively collided with you person physically. Your hair smelled like, under the shade of it, was nirvana. And within that smallest unit of time I was there, still in a state of physical contact, it felt like I could perish there right then, and still not panic about my years left to live. You were like clear flowing river water to a weary wanderer. You were like that, and like that you made me feel things.

I hope I never wake up feeling different about you. It’s strange how people leave, but they never really do.

I finally fell in love with you. Finally, because it’s when I realised that I’d never have you. I realised, years from now I’d still be longing for your company, and I’d never have you by my side. You’d never want to tell me how your day went, and I’d never be able to tell about mine, because you wouldn’t be there. This moment wouldn’t be there. And I think that is enough pain to bear in the fragile heart, but beautiful enough to cling on to the pain, the ache in the heart. I think, that’s what makes us mortals so special. We want something all the more, when we realise it is something very much out of reach, quite like the moon, off limits. It’s human nature. In denial, we crave for things we can never have. And then acceptance sets in.

I have thought about reasons as to why I can never unlove you. The most important of all is, I can never unlove you and move on to somebody else, is because even if one fine day, I happen to stumble upon someone, look them in the eye, and they look me in mine, I’d not be able to tell you that. I’d not be able to walk up to you and face you, to tell you that I found someone. I’d put a bullet in my head before doing so. Or shall I put it this way, that I’ll always be true to you, and my longing will forever be limited to you, and only you.

And then there comes a point, where I am at, where you don’t want anything, because finally getting the thing you have always craved for, will be an insult of the grandest measures to the tears, the insomnia, the anxiety, and the cripplingly lonely nights. There comes a point, where I’m at, when suffering feels like the right thing to do. Pain tastes sweet. There comes a point, where I’m at, where you realise no one and nothing has been with you but sadness, the old friend; the only friend.

Oftentimes I find it so fascinating, that the heart doesn’t mind the pain it endures. I find it so similar to Sisyphus and his curse. Climbing up a hill with a boulder, almost nearing the top, every time to find himself moments later at the foot of the hill with the rock again, and again and again, for eternity. I may have never understood where the line is drawn, between loving someone so wholeheartedly that I see nothing but you, want none but you, and having so much spite for self that eventually and absolutely it destroys me. Turns out, I never understood the assignment. Turns out, I never understood where to draw the line. And all I did ever, was love unconditionally, and limitlessly. The world was not ready for this kind of commitment yet. The world isn’t ready for this story yet. Perhaps the greatness of this kind of unhindered, passionate longing for someone cannot be measured. And cannot be told in words; and no one will know, not even you.

But “to be burned” in the fire meant so much more, “than to have never felt the warmth” of the flame.

You will be secure in my heart, that has high walls built around you. Your thoughts will be safe there. Your name will forever be safe in my mouth. People say your name sounds like a revered deity when I say your name.

This moment will go someday. You will go someday. So far, out of reach. Or I’ll choose to stop writing letters, to stop expressing, and to walk away, still so insanely in love. In the end, I might ask for a hug, for old times’ sake. I think I deserve the chance to fare you well for the last ever time, but I’d not get a chance to say the final goodbye and the ship will have sailed. And perhaps then, I’ll die of regret, grief and shame.

I am afraid if I spill out too much here and there, in letters like this, I won’t be left with anything to say, except perhaps a few teardrops in the last ever letter that I write to you. And, if my tears, my love, have ever been true, and stand against the test of time and space, we’ll meet again. I hope we meet at the other side. I’ll be waiting there.

Forever the devotee.

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