Dear, Wherever You Are
Dear wherever you are,
My love, writing this letter makes me no happier, yet there is an awful satisfaction in facing my biggest fear. I have conquered my demons through writing to you, and my worries, for one minute, fade away.
“Why,” you may ask, “do you write to me now, after all this time?” I have no answer, aside from my crippling fear. The truth is, darling, I’m the definition of a wreck. The clock ticks seconds away as if counting the days of sanity which remain ahead of me. I am, to my core, sorry that it took such a long time to do this. Again, I am scared, my muse.
“What scares you?” you may ask. You see darling, I told myself I would not write this letter until all hope was gone. I told myself this letter would signify the end of you, and that fills me with terror.
My love, I must say that it hurts me beyond belief to write this. I wish to stop hoping. I wish I would never allow hope to sprout in my soul, or wrap its fateful branches around my heart. Again you will ask “why?”
Hoping hurts. Ever since you went missing, it hurts. I only wish to let go.
If I drop this pen which dances so sorrowfully across my paper now, it will be the end. I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I should have tried harder. I should have searched further. I should have done everything to find you. I said I would go to the ends of the earth for you, to the moon for you. I am sorry I let you down.
If you are out there, you are invisible. Otherwise, I surely would have found you by now. We would be together by now. Our eyes would meet once again. But you are gone. Dead, even. You would not want me to fall apart, but to pieces I descend. To the depths of my pit I return. This time forever, not hindered by hope.
When you love someone, you fight for them. When you lose someone, you die for them. Half of me is dying, the other half is numb.
At this time, with tears clouding my vision, and sorrow clouding my judgment, I bid farewell. Goodbye my love. Goodbye my muse. May I join you soon.
Wherever you are.