TO YOU, JUST A COUPLE OF LINES
I know that you aren’t very fond of reading, but I can’t refrain. I NEED to write. I MUST write.
Yesterday evening my baby brother sent me an old picture of himself and me that I haven’t seen previously. I didn’t ponder over it initially, until I realized that it was taken right after you and I first met. My hair was much blonder then and I used to let it play freely in mother earths wind. I’m quite too controlling for that now. My skin was golden from soaking up all that summers sun. Sadly, it’s winter now when we’ve parted ways.
You were lying in my bed for what we agreed upon would be on would be the final time, and you wanted me to vow to be as stubborn with anyone else as I’ve been with you all these years. I was so delighted that you acknowledged one of my biggest insecurities as a positive personality trait. Or maybe you merely want my next one to suffer as greatly as you. Either way, I’m sorry I said that I desired you to promise me to break up with your next. I didn’t mean it, which I know that you know. Still, you said something wonderful and thoughtful for once, and all I could come up with to say in return was something ignorant and diminishing. I suppose we switched places for once, and at last I can comprehend why you always found it difficult to bare yourself to say something lovely back. Then when I asked you who you wanted to be, and I don’t think I’ve ever have been so timorous to hear your response. I hope you can forgive me for crying when you said that you wanted to be mine, but couldn’t. I know that you loathe when I cry and I used to be so fucking mad at you for that. But now I imagine that your reaction is just one of your ways to love me. However, the good thing is that I think you’re finally understanding that you primarily need to belong to yourself. Which makes me glad. Now I sleep on the pillow you laid your head on that night. You if anyone knows that I change my bedsheets every other Sunday, it has been a couple of weeks now and I have no intention of changing them.
I know that you want me to move on, and I intend to do my best to fulfil your wishes, I promise you that. Anyhow, I can’t pledge that I won’t cry when I walk by a child who looks like how I always used to imagine our would look like.
Thank you for saying that it wasn’t the last time when I started to cry when we fucked for “the last time”. And thank you for teaching me what love is, after all, at least I know what it feels like to be loved. The sensation of loving. I’m fairly convinced that it’s when you ACTUALLY can’t believe that ANYONE throughout the history of humanity possibly could’ve felt the way you do. So whenyou’re an old man and talking about the ones you’ve loved in the past, PLEASE, pull out this letter that I once extracted my WHOLE soul to write and show it to your grandkids. Let them fantasize about love like ours. Let your wife be jealous of what we once had.
When we first met I always wondered how the world could be such an awful place when love like mine for you existed. I get it now. For I feel that I gladly would destroy every single cubic centimeter of this god damn earth with my bare wounded hands, if that brought you back to me.
So, YOU, dear, if the world were to end, WHEN IT ENDS, can we please get together to die?
Filippa Hansson, 20, Stockholm - Sweden ✯ filippascoolamail@gmail.com
"20 year old girl living and breathing (as much as one manage) in Stockholm, Sweden. Dreaming of surviving life."