By Rhea Mathuria
My beloved,
I finally gathered the courage to talk about this to a friend, to whom I shall refer as my "grief counsellor." They mentioned how this growing, painful love for you might after all be repentance. Repentance for all your love I couldn't keep up with, repentance for the massive titles you gave me, to which I failed to come true.
It would've been easier if this were all in my head, if everything that happened between us was a mere figment of my multi-toned imagination. But it isn't, all of it was, indeed, the real grayscale of a life I’m living.
I've been rethinking everything I once believed in, every little thing I talked about that lit my eyes up, that brought life to my soulless body. I so wish I could just switch off right now, but God that's not happening! I'll never be the same girl I was and that change isn't something I’m ready to accept. Real change is excruciatingly agonising, the one we tell the world is just a facade.
In the six months I’ve known you, I’ve evolved six times, two of them without you because I chose to live alone. The boulders are still chained to my feet, but now, you've managed to run out of my sight. I was right, this was ending but I'm not looking for a new beginning, another beginning, I don't have the energy.
You didn't realise though, all the time you called me "home," I made you mine.
Sincerely yours,
A lover.
By Rhea Mathuria
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