* A Letter is a heartfelt series of self-expression in the form of messages, written through the outpouring of emotions, feelings, experiences, and things that the writer cares about, but with an added twist and some creative exploration of each theme or topic. Though it may not mean that they are completely one hundred percent the truth, they are one hundred percent what the writer wishes to convey; and that makes them truer than any other versions of the truth, don't you think? *
I'm sorry it came down to this: a broken word, an unspoken grudge, a wilted petal. But you gave me no choice. Every other time I tried, and I swear I've tried one too many times, you never gave me a chance. You only see what you want to see; you only hear what you want to hear; you only feel what you want to feel.
You pushed me over the breaking point, and boy, I wish you knew how violently the petals shredded under your weight. For a fleeting moment we were a vibrant spread of colours, but soon I realised it was all a mere mirage. Desperation and frustration are dangerous, dangerous things. But self-righteousness, that was were the true crime lay.
I would walk up to you and say sorry if I'd meant it, but even after all of this I still don't believe that anyone deserves to be lied to their faces. Nevertheless, I don't think you would even have noticed what I'd said even if I spat it into your face. Putting it frankly, you were, and still are, very much disillusioned, and there is no way that I can say it to you unless I opt to be honest. Brutally. So here it is: I'm sorry for not being sorry. I hope one day you will open your eyes and see the world beyond your outrageously clouded bubble and become a person who will uncurl furled petals; a man and not a boy. I am nowhere near where I would want myself to be either, but that's where our differences lie. You see, we were similar at one point. but like two lines perpendicular to each other, we headed off towards drastically different directions, and there is no way for us to go back to that one point again.
So this is it. This is where I gather up my crushed petals, blow them into the wind for one last flight, and say my goodbyes. If we are to ever cross paths again, one of us would have to bend into a spine-crushing curve, and I wish that on neither of us. Perhaps there is nothing wrong in either directions we have embarked on. Perhaps I am wrong. But what I do know now is this is my final letter to you, for a long, long time.
And maybe, just maybe,
forever.
Yours sincerely,
A stranger with memories, but wishes to forget them all.
