The Letters that I'll Never Send #6

(Can I open this with hugs?),

I am captured in a moment between two things I'm too afraid to type here, that I can't quite delineate. It is something that wakes me up forthwith in the morning, and something that keeps me up all night. It is something I should probably never keep, because it stays in the inside of my brain, perhaps has already built a more permanent abode so that it is even harder for me to forget. And it is something that makes me rather proud of myself for not being mental already... because every cloud has a silver lining.

Among all the things I really need to think about, this perfect visualisation of what's been on my literal dreams pops up in my head. And it's always about you, the thing I always say I don't need and the thing I'm too afraid to think about. Same thing. I've been here before, I've done it again. It's very confusing because it can be very constructive and destructive at the same time. Like, I know that in a few months there is no other possibility but for myself to see this crush to bit. Yet, I keep on thinking that I still can enjoy it while it lasts, creating my own delusion that dupes me for being the naïve little kid that I maybe really am. This delusion however, has always successfully tricked me into thinking that there is a chance somehow, and mine is pretty good. I think about what you did to me, what you brought me to, how you made my day and how you made me 'look forward to Monday to', as I chronicled simultaneously (mostly in the conversations I have with myself. Talk about being mental..), and your perplexing motive that I can't deduce plays an even bigger role in driving myself crazy.

In a positive way, if this still sounds sane enough. You bring a lot of good things, in spite of me. You colour my rather black and white sphere, with a lot of shades and tints and hues with perfect saturation, the kind I've never seen before. You bring out the best in me, help me unleash my potential that I thought was dead, with dying me. You make me want to live, more than just merely exist. I hear from within me a little bit more than a rhythmic beat every time you're around. Without me realising, I have triumphantly pieced myself together again, and it feels so positive I feel like wrapping my arms around you and never let go. Nevertheless, I know that you, like everything else that matters, won't last. And so again I'm babbling about me being imprisoned in my own agony.

"No, I think you've explained yourself clearly."
What if, just if, one day I could stop thinking too much, would you still believe me if I said I loved you?

So good night, beautiful thing. If in a few months I finally, voluntarily or forcefully, let you walk out the door, I will let you know that I'm not gonna die watching the moon and the night marry nevermore.

With the scenarios I have in my head,
Come back.

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