Love, Anonymous

I don’t want to write. I don’t. I don’t want to write but if I don’t do something I feel like I will explode at the slightest sensation. If I’m not scrolling or sleeping, I feel like I’m drowning. You pushed me away and I know why. I know it’s not me and it’s not you but the forces of life and others that are testing you in such cruel ways. I am so sorry my beloved. I feel selfish missing you and for feeling sorry for myself. You’re in pain and I am 700 miles away. I’m stuck in a glass box that was made for bombs, not fists and sheer will. I scream but it bounces and comes back to me. All I can do is type words into the little world we hold in our palms and hope you feel the warmth through the screen.

You don’t want to hurt me more. You need time alone to heal and deal with the mess in front of you but as much as I assure you that you’re not forced to do such alone, you keep me away. I hate your decision but love you for the reason, and I understand. My throat aches with the heartbreak that swells inside but I cannot keep crying. If I let myself break, the pain in my head will return and I will be more useless than I feel.

Since meeting you, life has felt different in a dream-like way. Not real. Fuzzy. I’m not sure why but I fear for tomorrow and the days coming after. The days without you. I miss hearing your voice in the morning and before I go to sleep. Always saying goodnight. Watching movies on Mondays and making the same jokes. Hearing you talk to your snakes like they are misbehaving children, with humor and love. There go the tears. I knew I couldn’t keep them away. It’s only been a day and it’s more than I can handle. It feels bigger than past losses.

This kind of pain is one I don’t think I can do again. I fear for the lonely holiday nights to come. An empty apartment and comfort movies on the TV while I rely on the glow of the Christmas tree to keep myself emotionally warm.

You are a light in this cold world. You do not deserve the pain it has brought you and I am so sorry for the weight you’re carrying now. Even if you don’t want me to wait, I want to. I want to show you that people can be patient and kind, but more, I want to show you that I’m here. I’m here and I love you. It’s okay if you don’t love me too.

Love, Anonymous.