Love Letter To No One.

i seldom capitalize my titles. but for you, i will.

and i have.

i want to send you my favorite songs. violins and cellos, vocals and cajons. i want to write you letters about us, about God, about all the things i fangirl over. i want to bake a pie for you but i won't because i don't know how to. but maybe, just maybe, i'll learn. i'll take pictures with an Instax and write favorite quotes of mine all over them then leave them around our house to let you find them. we will have a house together. an apartment. a studio apartment? i've always wanted a studio apartment, and maybe so did you. we'll decorate the place together, we'll fall asleep together and do nothing else. i want to wake up to the strong fragrance of coffee invading my nostrils. i want to wake up to a perfect breakfast in bed, but that doesn't have to happen everyday. i want to wake up to you humming that new song you just recently fell in love with. i want to wake up with you by my side.

i'll rescue a stray kitten and bring it home while you whine and simultaneously fall in love with it. we'll go through the five stages of grief after it passes away. we'll argue about things and i'll always lose or just run away from such conversations because i hate conflict. you know i hate conflict but it happens anyways. the strings that hold us together begins to fray, then finally breaks.

the break-up is hard. i would listen to music that still reminded me of you. i wouldn't cry alone at night, but i would do everything else alone. it all seems so quiet without you. we sold the apartment and took our belongings. we left and we never saw each other. it wasn't the drama kind of bitter. it was the silent kind of bitter. like acid, your absence would eventually burn a hole in my soul. after losing count of the times i tried to fit something else in the void in my soul, i would stumble upon you. we still lived in the same city, after all. we still had the same jobs, after all. we still knew each other, deep down, after all.

it wouldn't be dramatic. we would not exchange glances or stare at each other blankly until the other person decides to run home and cry or call a friend. we would see each other, at the pet store, at the mall, at the places we used to go and the places we would never go, but it was always one-sided. we never knew we were watching each other. we thought we had great lives. we thought.

so we moved on.

we moved on thinking we both progressed into better lives without one another.

we try to forget, but one day when we're old and married to someone else, we'll come across old letters, ticket stubs, necklaces, records, cds, anything that reminded us abruptly about each other.

and we'll smile. foolishly.

...while wondering why we let go of each other at all.