P.S. There Are Days In Which I Still Yearn For You

Dear G or K or whatever they call you now,

We were little kids when we first met. And you were kind to me in a way no one else was. I’d cling to your side like a kitten to a cat, solemnly close and enraptured by every word you said and all the stories you told me. You were the expert when it came to ghost stories. There was something about your intonation, your voice. The way you narrated a sequence of events so beautifully. I was always a little in love with you even before I realized that I loved you.

I was always a giver during those days. I served you my heart on a silver platter. I think I did more for you in those days than anyone else in your life ever did. I believed in you. You were always failing classes but I let you cheat off of me during tests. I gave you my class notes. I was the giver and you were the taker and you took and took and took. Soon enough, you were dining on my heart. I did not know children could be so cruel until you turned on me. I never expected love from you. Truthfully, I was disgusted by the idea of you as a lover. You were not a romantic and I simply wanted a friend but you went from a friend to a bully and soon enough, all my love for you dissipated.

I took my heart back and I stopped being a giver. I’m the taker now. I’m selfish like you and I turn away from friends too. I’ve grown up. But your shadows still linger in the dark corners of my mind and sometimes I wonder where you are. You were not love. But you were something close to it. You were the first crush, the first boy I ever knew. You were the first heartbreak too. My mind automatically goes back to you every few years like a flawed software clinging onto its bugs. I want to rid myself off of you but my head always plays the little memories of you that I thought I’d forgotten.

How you watched all the scary reality TV shows there were on TV. How we lived in the same apartment complex. How your sister asked me to join her dance group. How your smile was sweet.

This isn’t a love letter. At least, I don’t want it to be. You don’t write love letters to a boy you haven’t seen in years. You don’t write love letters to a boy who was selfish and uncaring and stupid. You don’t write love letters to a boy who stomped on your heart and acted as if he was never wrong. You write them an “I want closure” letters and you hope they reply and you get the closure you long for.

M.

P.S. There are days in which I still yearn for you.

P.S. There Are Days In Which I Still Yearn For You II

Dear F,

You were what could have been. But again, I’m a selfish person and an uncaring asshole. I panicked, okay? When you showed interest, I panicked and I thought I didn’t deserve love and maybe I lumped you in with all the others. I’m just an unfeeling monster so I shut down and proceeded to destroy all your notions of me. I was rude and I was stupid. I am sorry.

But I have my traumas and my thoughts and my experiences.

I saw your LinkedIn a few days ago. It’s funny to me that you have a LinkedIn but not an Instagram account. Or maybe you do have one and I just don’t follow you. I think I’m rambling with my letter over you but just know that if I could rewind time, I would want to see it through with you. And I’m sorry. I hope your uni days are amazing. I genuinely thought you would have gone into archaeology but I guess you just could not escape your affinity for numbers and money, huh? I hope your days treat you well and I hope you’ve lived well. Really sincerely, I hope you become all the things you want to be.

M.

P.S. There are days in which I still yearn for you, but I also yearn for him so what does that make you and what does that make me? I don’t know.