Unsent Letter #2

A week after your disappearance, I am sticking with the silence.

Two can play the game even if we both know there will be no winners.

But whilst I sit in my cold room listening to the intermittent midnight traffic and the incessant pattering of the rain on my windowsill, I can imagine what if.

For a long time I did not think it was possible, to find someone who would care and be interested. There have been some who cared but wasn’t overly interested. And vica versa, some were interested but didn’t really care. Many people seek love, harmony, similarities, a good sense of humour, a nice pair of hands, shared political views. All I ever wanted was someone to care and be interested.

You seemed to fit my hopes, and then some. I was drawn to your mind and the way you thought, your observations and even your accent. To my surprise and disbelief mixed with young hopefulness, you seemed smitten, interested, like you could not get enough. And you cared, no matter how silly or inconsequential or inappropriate my comments or reactions were.

They say every miracle lasts only three days, but in this case, it was almost three years. After a glitch we seemed unable to get back to our early, anxious can’t-get-enough, and we started to run around in circles, sometimes even backwards.

And then the arguments came. Endless, senseless battles of the hurt feelings we both accumulated, the frustration and hopelessness that finally raised its tent between us and we danced around it, threw bricks at it, only we did not try to dismantle it or find other pastures greener.

I did not want to bring all these up, but it sort of just happened, as it usually does. You have gone awol, so I might as well ramble on.

I did have something to say, before it got to the “why am I doing this again, it makes no sense”.

I guess you are probably depressed. Stressed. Overworked and frustrated. Little rewards in a life you chose, and now you can’t even truly be happy when you see your name in Nature. I get this, kind of. Life sucks, it truly does sometimes. But on a personal level, it hurts me too much to realise that my existence does not balm your wounds (any more?), that talking to me brings you more pain and sorrow than wonder and joy like it used to, that you run from me and block me instead of seeking my company when things get tough and life feels pointless.

And my thoughts turn to what if…

What if we did not have that glitch, or if we handled it better?

What if you still trusted me?

What if you really were the whole package, sticking with me in good and bad, even if you promised for better or for worse to another?

What if I did not make my last comment that contributed to your disappearance, what if you just ignored it or reacted by telling me to grow up, to stop turning the knife in us?

What if this silence lasts another week, or month, and we cannot ever recover?

What if we speak again tomorrow and pretend like nothing happened, shoving the broken pieces of what we once were under the flying carpet?

What if I never hear from you again?

What if I write a hundred more letters and you never read them?

What if you read them, and just go back to your proteins with a sigh?

What if we keep at our jerking dance macabre a little longer, another year, another decade, running standstill.

I have no regrets.

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