Hello, goodbye.

To whom this may not concern,

I am going to stop this game of hide and seek we’ve been playing, topple the 3-D chess set, cut the dangling puppet strings of heart and mind and body. I am retiring from the sport of will he-won’t he-why won’t he? 

In my head, today, I celebrate the anniversary of our entertaining, torturous mind-and-body games. It began with a greeting that was made while my impulsive fingers disobeyed rational orders; my blood was thinned with sinister spirits and my heart and stomach seemed to have gotten entangled when you smiled at me. I broke the rules of this game you’re so adept at by letting you trespass into my temple of obsessions. I’m sorry, you were all I had been dreaming of since I first realised that my golden imagination couldn’t be translated into the language of my mundane world. The faint glow you exuded should have tipped me off. You were always out of place in my mindscape, too removed from a world I struggled to breathe in. I failed to see this then, and I’ve fallen too badly and bruised my knees too much to carry on this charade; to pretend you haven’t hurt me. 

This is the last ode I sing to you. The final time I write to you. The penultimate expression of my pain, the terminal point of the train of thoughts in which you’ve been travelling for over a year now. I have to delete your name from my memory. I must stop letting your soul enter the words that I love to animate. I will no longer let your voice dictate my rhythms. I won’t write of you again. This is the last time I sing your song. 

I wish I could say I wouldn’t miss you. I wish I could forget how your clear eyes reflected all my unspoken desires. I wish I could stop reliving every single moment we’ve shared since that fateful night our planets turned to look at each other. There was an eclipse that night, the pervading darkness should have been a warning of the dangers to come. But you struck a match against my skin, you lit a flame that will continue to burn as long as I am.

I need to say these things today. Say them crudely, let out my raw passions, free my caged emotions. No clever turn of phrase to disguise my true feelings for you. No wordplay to mask my pain. No suprising combination of letters to decode a hidden meaning. There’s nothing barely concealed about this address. You’re in it and on it and it, through and through. 

I fell for the skill with which you spun gold out of straw-like clich├ęs. I loved your smile that held naughty secrets from two decades ago. I wanted to freeze your gaze towards my own: nothing imperfect about that moment when we first locked eyes and my heart disappeared into a void (it has been missing since).

But I can’t go on. There’s nothing whimsical about crying myself to sleep at night. Nothing beautiful about the nightmares that wake me up before the crack of a dawn without you. Nothing magical about suffocating at 2 am while reading words penned by your trembling hands. You’ve rejected my love even in worlds where rainbows outnumber the stars. And so, I choose to burn you out of the one world in which I hold all power. This world: where I use 26 threads to weave 2600 patterns. 

In this messed up world we’ve created, you’re the omniscient one. You know it all, control it all. So you are fully aware of my reasons for penning this. You’ve let me down in a way I didn’t anticipate, despite all the anguish you’ve put me through. You didn’t think me worthy even of a small kindness that would have brightened my day. You know what you’ve done and not done and almost done but not quite; and I can’t make excuses for you any longer. This last straw you pulled cannot be spun into gold.

I know I’ll laugh at this version of myself a year from now. I know a familiar tune may reach my ears and ache my heart in a way only the inflections of your voice can. I know I will move on from this fantasy on to another, more brutal one. Your cruelty will seem like sweet nectar some day because the sting will be long forgotten. Pain will replace pain. My pyromaniac soul will seek another fire to quench my masochistic thirst. 

I’ve enjoyed being tormented by you. Perhaps in another lifetime, I may have the pleasure of having my heart broken by you. Again.

With love and longing,

Yours, never. 

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