Member-only story
The Letter You Will Never Read
Signed, Sealed, and Unsent
You were the last time I conflated escapism with love. Your eyes used to fixate on me as if I was wholly composed of magic.
Oh, the charm of it all.
I admit I got carried away in the fiction of it.
This is what ended us. Or, maybe, this is what stopped us from really beginning.
See
I am made up of things apart from fantasy. I am bad days and mood swings and irrationality.
I am mistakes and apologies and flawed friendship.
Yes, there is innate messiness to me. Still, I am trying to elevate myself to be what love demands.
I tried with every remaining bit of my sanity to help you understand this.
After all, what is love if not a space to grow?
A year later, I sit here in my new life, my earned life. This man who isn’t you makes goofy faces at me knowing I will roll my eyes at him. He unpacks our belongings.
Clothing for the closet. Dishes for the kitchen. A new couch he’s bought for us in my favorite color, purple.
We select a pine dresser from the online catalog. We like its simplicity because I can decorate it with my henna designs.
