And I ask myself, after 5 days of not talking, are you worth it?
I know that whenever I write songs about you and about the things that you made me feel and how beautiful you are to me, it is my gain as a writer… but are you worth the reminisce?
I don’t know.
I cannot bring myself to understand you for you evade me so cautiously I feel like I am a disease to your system. Even when you evade me, there will be times wherein you’d come upon me, clinging so helplessly on my every word like I am your oxygen.
I can’t understand.
To all of the boys that I have been with, I swear to God, I know their plan but because of the 7000 miles that never fail to slap me in the face with the words “You’re too far apart”, I cannot understand anything.
I don’t understand you.
Or is that your plan?
So that I’d be too exhausted to put up a fight. So that I’d be too confused with everything that I’d rather forget the visions of how “we” could be possible.
Without a shadow of doubt, I am lost.
Lost somewhere there in our 7 hour time difference. I am lost somewhere between the phrases of “Me voy a dormir, guapa” and “Seen (6.45 am)”. I am lost between the songs you carefully handpicked for me, because I told you I love sounds violins make. Lost between “You can tell me anything, anytime” and “I don’t think I can talk to you anymore.”
I am lost.
I think I lost you too.
Or maybe it’s the other way around.
You lost me.
You lost the girl who clothed you with the love and affection you needed back when all you did was hum the verses of that Killers song about forgetting. You lost the girl who would wake up as early as 6 am just so she could put you to sleep with her goodnights. You lost the girl who would patiently use Google Translate just so she could fully understand you when you can’t find the words in English. You lost the girl.
You lost me… when I was so willing to keep myself at bay just so when I set foot to your land, I could be the one for you.
That’s who you are.
I am not ending the letter here.
I do believe that I’ll write more, but I guess, it will take a whole of time before I write something about you again, for this time, I will not make an effort to move elsewhere.
I’ll wait for you to find me once again, and maybe, just maybe, we could start this all over again.
or maybe not.