Woman of mine. What I write you won’t care to read. And I write for you to read. If this ever sees the light of the day, the reason will not be us. The reason hides in the greater question: what crazy game have we played? And what are its consequences? Love of mine, I hate you. I love you. Isn’t it crazy? It’s been like this for so long now. I swear my heart is made of glass. A heart that gives itself to another heart which throws it away.
I call you stupid in my thoughts from time to time. Do you do the same? Do you ever think of me? He must keep you busy; the one who will soon call you wife. It took a lot to not plead for your love and snatch you from him with whatever methods i could muster. It has been my philosophy for awhile to make the recipient of my love happy. And you seem to be happy with him. So I do nothing. But while doing this, my heart broke and ached for you. Even until now.
Those like me shouldn’t exist. And yet I do. I see the true fool that I am now. Who felt for the charms of a physics doll with gentle manners. It must be hard not to love you. Wherever you walk, you must feel secure that you could make anyone love you if you wished. You the breaker of hearts just because you want to have the feeling rush of being appreciated. And it is this realization that gives me strength to walk farther away from you. Any reason to walk away will be good.
Could I have ever had you? No. We are too different. And yet I love you. Or I did.
You get married again. You don’t seem to learn. Stupid. Stupid. But what do I know? I am ready to know. You fell in love. You silly girl. Even if you were with me, I wouldn’t marry you. But perhaps I would. I have heard that love makes you stupid. And so I am.
What are we to do with ourselves? Enjoy life while we can. Though, you’d enjoy more life than me these days. But I can’t really complain. Life speaks to me. I am sure you have seen me speak to it from time to time. And we have beautiful conversations. I can’t doubt myself on this. I am growing. Though, I do think I’d grow better and stronger with you. I miss you. It would seem that only moments of your present made me a better man. I miss you.
I apologize for not making you feel the same way you made me feel. For being a burden when it most mattered for you to have friends. But that was the nature of my childish/juvenile and yet sincere love.
It has now become a sickening love. I don’t have you anymore. No longer do I know you. Perhaps I never even knew you.
You get married. And marriage is stupid to me because of the inability for people to stay together. But it can be a wonderful thing if the decision wasn’t rushed. And something tells me you rush it twice. I am slow. It takes all the time in the world for my love to get here. But slow and steady wins the race.
I wish you happiness my silly fellow in love friend. And forgive my feelings so that I can have a change at forgiving myself. There is so much for me to tell you. But these words best fit the you of the past. And it is her that I still love even now. As for the you of now, she must be better than the old and yet there might be a chance I wouldn’t love that present her.
Best of luck.
The greater purpose might have been accomplished my lost friend. The smartest way to move on: to write a letter and not send it. The smartest way to move on that I can come up with today anyway.