a page from a diary
08. august ‘19
This is a good-bye letter
Do you think I can have one more kiss? I’ll find closure on your lips, and then I’ll go. Maybe also one more breakfast, one more lunch, and one more dinner. I’ll make breakfast, you make dinner. A bottle of wine perhaps? I’ll be full and happy, and… then we can part. But in between meals, maybe we can lie in bed one more time. Your hand inside of my sleeve and me perfectly fitting into your arms. The only rush, is to rush to dinner. And that we can make being drunk of wine, dancing in the kitchen in the middle of the night. One more prolonged moment where time suspends indefinitely as I rest my head on your chest. One more walk around the park, your hand around my shoulders when sitting on the bench and watching the night taking over. One more cup of tea in bed, one more laugh. My hope was that maybe if we add up the “one mores,” they will equal to something lasting and I’ll never have to get to the part where I let you go.
But that’s not real, is it. There are no more “one mores.” I met you when everything was new and exciting, and the possibilities of the world seemed endless. And they still are. For you, for me. But not for us. Somewhere between then and now, here and there, I guess we understood ourselves and each other and that there was no working middle way anymore. Maybe we got lost? Maybe we didn’t hear each other anymore. Maybe we didn’t try enough? But that is not our journey anymore and we are choosing ourselves. I though believe, that happiness is only real when shared. But we’ll grow there. What is meant for you, won’t pass by you, right.
I don’t know where we gonna end up one day. Maybe drinking tea when laughing at ourselves what a kids we were and how we through that we know everything. Therefore, I believe that today we gotta be our own people, and… and now we need to grow. And that for me means, that I will let you be you and I’ll let myself be me. No more one mores.
I’ve always been taught, that if something breaks and if the pieces are large enough, you should always fix it. Unfortunately, sometimes things don’t break, they shatter. But when you let the light in, shattered glass will glitter. And in those moments, when the pieces of what we were, catch the sun, I’ll remember just how beautiful it was. Just how beautiful it’ll always be. Because it was us. And we were magic.