DEAR FORGOTTEN

Typical days are a struggle to get out of bed, with this body moulded to sheets. However, this time, I had decided yet again to indulge in delivery. So naturally, I had to scream at every cell in my body to force itself down the stairs and to the door. Whilst I waited for the driver to leave my food at the door, I noticed in the corner of my eye, a letter. More so how my name was inscribed in thick, bold letters.

Personally, I was very confused as to why my twenty-year-old self had been sent a physical letter, especially with the abundance of technology all around. Well, that's probably why my hands tore right through your packaging, curious to see what was inside. There you were, a crumpled-up piece of A4 that had been poorly managed. My mind raced when I slowly opened you up, thinking anything but you. Yet as my eyes laid onto you, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the world. My knees sinking into a puddle of emotions. I had forgotten how easy it was for you to haunt me.

It only took 2.5 seconds before I instinctively folded you back, and chucked the letter back to where I found it. Yet your image carved itself into my heart. A picture of innocence. Living. Breathing. That was probably why I left you there. Trying once more, to annihilate your existence whilst I walked past. But the damage was done. You had barged into my home, refusing to leave even as I begged on my knees for your disappearance. Even in the depths of night, when I screamed for my salvation, you still remained.

The warmth of my bed still could not burn your smile. How you still gleam of sweet make-believe and fairyland nonsense. You truly are selfish, arriving at this time.

Do you ravish the sight you see?

Or do you still want to preach to me your dreams or desires?

How dare you barge in with that carefree smug on your face! Did you seriously think it was the best time? That if I listened to all your hopes it would spark some sort of change. God, I hate how confident you are. You paint me as some sort of saint, forcing your perception that I could mould into you. Well, maybe you take a good look at the new me.

Just tell me you hate me. Drag the bitter out your mouth. Make every syllable a weapon. Spew the poison in each sentence. Then maybe I could comprehend why you still stay. How you are ever-changing.

I’m sorry…

I took it too far.

Even more so, I’m sorry that I am such a disappointment.

That my legs have suddenly refused to pick up your dreams

That I let our passion be snatched by this new reality.

I promise, I tried. Every day I clawed any ounce of motivation to this empty shell. There were days when my breath becomes an uncontrollable beast. Mustering up the courage to tame it, chips at my strength. Other times, it is like my heart has entered a marathon. Beating itself against my ribs as though even it does not want to be apart of my body.

I even let my mouth run to anyone who would hear, regurgitating emotions in hopes they see what I bottled up. Yet somehow, somewhere “us” became you and I.

Did I let you down?

Did I ruin you?

My legs seem to find its way back to you. These fingers nervously picking you up. Somehow you feel heavy, more rough than I actually thought. Slowly I being to open up to you once more.