Dearest Lover,

What’s going on? I thought we could trust eachother, I thought we were best friends. I thought you loved me. Obviously not. Why the cold shoulder all of a sudden? I come back from the States to visit you and your new band, and what do I get but an empty house with your stuff packed up and you gone. Why’d you run? Was it me? If it was, then I’m sorry. I don’t know what changed between us in the space of a year. I tried calling you over and over, but all I received was your machine and a disembodied voice. I think I’ve left 25 or so messages for you, I don’t know because I lost count after that, and yet you never returned them. Do you know how much that hurts? It’s like…I’m not sure words can describe it.

My last message to you was that I was coming for a visit. Obviously you got my messages or else you wouldn’t have fled like that. I still don’t understand what went wrong. In the beginning of our break, I remember we’d call eachother at least three times a week. But then gradually I became the only one calling, and fewer and fewer times you’d be home. I just needed to hear your voice, that’s all. Damn it, why? I need to know why you’ve suddenly decided to break all contact off with me.

No, I’m not miserable. More like bitter and angry, which is close but not quite. I miss you but I won’t beat myself up because you don’t know what you’re throwing away. Do you remember what you promised? I’ll remind you. You promised you’d always be a phone call away as you kissed me that last night we had together, promised you’d love me even if the Earth’s great divide separated us. Ha. Liar. It hurts to know that you’re running from me, the love of your life, you once said. Was I being too clingy? Calling you and pestering you every few days? You can’t honestly tell me you fell out of love with me. I think I’m still in love with you but I don’t want to be. Not after the way you’ve been avoiding me purposely. God, you couldn’t even pick up the bloody phone just to talk to my voice.

I’m going to get over you, though. Slowly but surely. Unless you decide to apologize, but I don’t think you will. You’re too stubborn for that. And even then, I don’t think things would ever be the same between us. That’s how deep you’ve cut, lover. But I’m not going to mull over this heartbreak because I’ve already wasted a year doing so, and I refuse to tolerate this much pain just because of your arse. I hope you’re happy when you get this letter. I hope you fucking jump for bleeding joy now that you’re rid of me. Forever. I hope the next time you fall in love, they’ll rip your heart up like you’ve done to mine. You’ll see how much it hurts. Or are you hurting now? Have I misjudged your feelings? Are you crying your eyes out and regretting the space you’d put between us? I used to know you and I would’ve say that yes, you were. But you’ve changed, I’m sure of it, so I don’t know what you’re feeling now. Have you stopped feeling for me altogether? If you have, then you’ve just wasted years and years of your life. With me. It’s a shame.

I wonder, have you found a new love? I’m dying to know. Does he have the same body as me? Can he please you the way I once did? Or is he completely my opposite, just so you can shed all memory of me? I bet you’ll break his heart too. I dare you. I bet you two don’t have the connection we once had.

I’ve realized you are the love of my life and that it will probably never be that good again, but I’m going to move on. If you don’t respond to this letter, my last attempt, then I will burn every picture, every piece of music we made together. I’d have to or else I’d feel unclean and the love I could give to others would be tainted. I hope you’ll at least call to say our final good-byes. God, if you do, I might just bloody break and sob like an idiot and fall for you all over again. Just your voice could do that to me. But I don’t care. As long as we don’t end like this because I hate leaving loose ends. You know what I mean? So just call, or write, or send an envelope with your name and a fake address and a blank sheet of paper inside. Anything to indicate you’re still alive. Give me that much. It’s all I ask. And forgive me, these words, all my faults. Forgive me if I did or said something wrong. I forgive you even though it’s hard to, so I’ll expect you to return the favor and be a man. Please.

~ Eternally, D.