Dear Thomas,
I wanted to talk to you so badly, but I have promised myself that I will not contact you. I miss you. I think about you all the time. You have no idea how badly I want to see you and tell you that I love you. I am angry with you. I am mostly angry with myself, but it’s easier to be angry with you. I realise now how selfish you are and that you don’t really love me. I guess it’s who you are. We don’t know that much about each other, but what is very clear to me is that if you actually cared about me, you wouldn’t ghost me. You wouldn’t ignore me. In our whole exchange the last time we spoke, not once did you ask how I was. It’s hurtful.
I know you don’t do it intentionally. It’s even worse, my feelings don’t even come to mind for you. You don’t even consider that. I wish you had the balls to just tell me that you don’t want to talk to me. But no, you want to keep the door open just in case you do decide you want to pursue me. I should let you go and grow some balls and tell you that I don’t want this.
But then, I would be lying. Because even though it’s stupid and damaging, I do want this. This being you, of course. I want you to come back, I want you to pursue me. I want to be with you. I know that logistically and realistically it’s pretty absurd to even be considering a relationship. You live in USA, I live in Australia and planning to move to London and who knows where else. I plan to live abroad for as long as I can. I want to continue to move around the world. I don’t know where I’ll end up. I don’t want to know.
Despite all of that, I still want you. I still want to be with you. I still love you. I keep seeing your face. I see you everywhere. And everything reminds me of you. My bed. My room. I look in the mirror and I remember the message I wrote you. I look at the photo of my parents and I remember you. I no longer sleep in the middle. I sleep on “my side”. This is bullshit.
I wonder if you ever think about me. I wonder if I’ll get a message from you. Every time my phone goes off, I wish it was you. But it never is. Maybe if I knew there was absolutely no hope I could move on. But I can’t move on because I still have hope.
Fuck you Thomas.
Yours forever,
Maya