Unfinished

In the quiet moments, when I stare to the west or the moon and the stars, my thoughts often wander to you. Reflecting on the paths we’ve taken, intersecting yet distant, I find myself writing these words, not of sorrow, but a place of deep affection.

I’ve come to realize that love, in its essence, is woven with threads of joy and pain, a journey that challenges us, shapes us, and sometimes, divides us years at a time. Your choice to pursue love that felt easy, over one that triggers yet promised growth, is a chapter in your journey that I’ve pondered over with a wounded yet gentle heart.

I believe every soul seeks its counterpart, not just in harmony but in lessons learned. Our pages that briefly stuck together were a testament to the potential of what could have been—a love that dared, to step out of comfort into the transformative.

Yet, I hold no contempt. Love, in its purest form, is wanting happiness for the other, even if the paths we walk diverge. Your decision taught me an invaluable lesson about love’s multifaceted nature. Love isn’t about the ease of the journey but about the depth. Sometimes that depth is blindingly uncomfortable. It’s about finding someone who triggers the wounded bits that need healing and holding your hand while you do it. Who wants to know your truths, not to use them against you but to understand how you need to be loved. And encouraging you to be your most you. Though our paths have diverged again, my affection for you remains, untainted by bitterness but lingering with regret that we never really were, and time keeps ticking.

I have loved you for what seems a hundred years but fell in love with you on that day you know I’m thinking of. I cherish the moments we shared for they hold the feelings of what all others are measured.