When we first started talking I couldn’t help being so overwhelmed with the way you’d adore the little things I did. I wanted to be with you the day you accidentally said that I should marry you. Your childish approach to me, as a crush, felt so pure. The innocent and loving language you’d use from time to time, made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. It still would but you have seemed to have forgotten me. Our spark has died. I wish you’d still want to talk about random things. I wish you’d still want to sing to me. I wish I could remain special to you. But that doesn’t seem to be the case.
You. The 1975. Your Pictures. Your passion for creativity. It’s serene. It’s harmonious. There’s nothing like it. That’s why I fell in love with you. We never got a chance to keep things warm between us. I wish we did. Only if I wasn’t scared of being in love again. I was scared that if I was to tell you that I’m slowly falling for you, you’d freak out. Or worse, you’d tell me that you feel the same and when things got stagnant, you’d simply walk away. I felt you push me away whenever I’d try to get closer. I guess, love alone doesn’t guarantee bliss.
I’m grateful that I got to know you. I’m grateful for falling for you. I’m grateful for how good you made me feel. I hope you find consistent happiness in yourself and a lover who you’d never stop loving.
With love, adieu.