I have been instructed not to miss you. I have been told that this is a good thing. I have been told it is better for me to be without you. I have been told that moving on is a good thing. That living my life without you would be better.

They say it is so, so it must be. I nod and smile and make appropriate comments that please them. Who are they to say so? I close my eyes and sit still for a while. It is my head competing with my heart, it is my promise competing with my passion, the forbidden truth so blatantly staring at me that I have no choice but to do the obvious – Ignore it. It is them, the bourgeois pessimist who have placed me in a box and forgotten to give me a key to my own heart. It is you, the person who refuses to disregard the box I have been set in.

But then I vaguely muster a smile as I remember that once upon a time I trusted my heart, I fell because it was fun and because you were there to have fun as we fell. Because in the beginning we fell in our kind of weird love, whatever that meant and even if we could not and cannot accept that love is a word even mentioned. Our respective pasts have left us shredded in pieces. We are supposed to make sense of it all when we have no sense left, piece together the chainsaw chequered remains of a ragged past and an uncertain future.

How do I do that when I have to repeatedly ask myself what the flaw is in me that you see so clearly and I cannot find to fix? I over think because I need to. I over think because not knowing why I am not good enough is not good enough.

They say I am better off without you. How would that feel? Can you tell me? Can you help me find the end of the light in the tunnel on my side too so that I can switch it off? The eerie shadow cast by my light into your darkness is quite daunting to get over, and I’d like it to stop now.

What is love if we cannot love wholeheartedly, for lack of having a whole heart? What is desire if we cannot first want ourselves? What is the truth worth when a lie hurts just as much? What is the answer to how much you care, when I care unquestionably?