A Letter of Everything

Dear you,

I’ve refused to let things out for months now, and it’s been eating at me that I can no longer say it in words but in tears. I don’t know how to begin, but for a starter I should tell you that this is not a literary letter. This is a letter. Period.

I’ve let things in for so much time I forgot how much it felt in the first place. I have had this numbness feeling since maybe May or June of this year. It’s been a rough yet a fun year for me. I’ve made so many decisions that I’m so proud of, the most important of which was choosing my fiancé, the love of my life, and deciding that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. The problem is, even then, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. What I was sure of was that I wanted so much to give him a shot, to take a shot with him, and see how I feel. What I felt, by time, was a feeling of really knowing that I will never find anyone like him, even in the way he gets angry then comes back to me later an hour or two at the maximum, to say he’s sorry and that he didn’t mean for it to hurt me. I felt that I’ll never meet someone with his enthusiasm and excitement, for reading, books, writing, and stories, for history, literature, languages, politics, and the world. 

Then I had to ask myself again, am I choosing to be with him only because I will not find anyone like him, or because I really cannot and do not want to live with anyone but him? This question was the hardest. Until one day he disappeared for hours and hours that I lost count, and started to go crazy. Where is he? Is he safe? I don’t even know any of his friends’ contacts so I can make sure he’s doing fine. I was horribly worried. I started to imagine my life without him, and I couldn’t stand this idea. He’s turning into everything and everyone to me. A friend, a lover, a best friend, a father, a brother, a soulmate, a husband. Everything.

And even though the time I met him was nearly the time I started having these feelings of numbness, it would be utterly unfair to blame anyone but myself, for the misery I’m putting myself into.

I’ve lost interest in so many things that I used to be so excited about. I cannot get rid of the question of “What’s the end of this anyway?” in anything I’ve been doing. And I am starting to realise that I am thinking too far ahead. Too, too far that I am no longer able to enjoy the things of now, of this moment. I am failing to make myself as well as others happy. Maybe I still do make others happy, but even so, I never feel I do. The impact I make on people and myself is no longer defeating numbness. Everything has turned into something I just do, in hopes that I would regain my enthusiasm for it.

I know that the solution to all of this lies within me. I know that there is an attitude I need to get rid of, and a greater part in my brain needs to kill that pessimism and instead focus of the now, to be able to enjoy things the way I used to.

I realise that I have to sit with myself more often, to write you (him) more often, and to let it out to him (you)more than I do now. I realise that I have to write more, to not allow any type of depression or mood to come in the way of my writing. I truly miss writing, and I have been so miserable ever since I almost forgot I have huge potential.

I am sorry. I am sorry for everything I held back. Every feeling I suppressed and every emotion I refused to let go. This is a letter of promises. I promise myself more than anyone to fight more, and to not give up to such moods, for the sake of the people around me more than for myself.

I love you. This is a letter of love and hope. I love you.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,

N.