Dear You,
Time heals all wounds, isn’t that what they say? Partly due to this adage, I wrongfully assumed that I would be over you by now.
And perhaps I would be if you did not persistently reenter my world at your own pleasure.
Don’t get me wrong, my life has not stopped in the wake of your absence. When things went south with us (and not in the naughty way), I quickly turned cold towards you and went on living like there never was an “us.” I am not some sobbing, love-stricken mess—you know me much better than that.
However, it embarrasses me to admit that my feelings for you are like a fever I have yet to fully recover from..
It’s cruel and unfair that just when I feel like I’ve finally broken free from your sweaty grasp, you suddenly reach out and entrap me once more. The most frustrating aspect of it all is that you either do not realize or do not care how much you disturb my little universe every time you waltz back in with a cocky grin and a joke ready on your lips.
But maybe it means something that you can’t let go of me. Maybe it makes it all the more real. I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me happy to know I’ve been dancing through your dreams. I know the burn of your love hurts so because it was the first that singed deeply, and that slowly my heart will callous, preparing for future heartbreak.
I just wanted to say (not that it matters) that I really loved you and I wish for all those dreams you whispered to me under warm covers to come true.
Love,
Me