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Ahhh, Valentines has come and gone, but the stench — I mean, the smell of Valentines is still in the air.
And to commemorate another year of my alone-ness (was it that obvious?), I decided to make public a little something I wrote one summer back in college. Sigh. That summer was one bittersweet period in my life.
Kidding, I love being single. But I thought that I’d completely let go of the past with this one last act of publicity.
And without further delay:
A break-up Letter
(Written on April 29, 2010)
I hope you understand why I want to do this.
No, don’t expect me to say “It’s me, not you” because I really feel that I am not the only one to blame. Knowing that entering this would demand a large part of me, I tried so hard to love you. I really did. And for a time, for a moment there, I really thought I had finally learned to.
There were those moments when I thought I was finally starting to understand you, for you really are quite complicated. Let me tell you, those moments of even the slightest understanding about you were of pure bliss and ecstasy. Oh, joy! You really filled my mind, and my heart. You visited my every waking moment.
I remember the very first time I even entertained the thought of being with you. I admit, you enthralled me. Even from afar, I’ve admired you so. And then suddenly… there you were, calling me to you as with open arms. It was almost like a dream! And so even when others beckoned to me, I ran straight into your arms – figuratively of course. And even when people close to me objected, I pursued this… thing with you. Amid the surprised and skeptical faces, I stubbornly told everyone: “We can make it work out.”
Alas! I judged incorrectly. Indeed, you shared me parts of yourself… but I do not want parts of you! I want more of yourself. As time passed, I realized that I do not really know anything about you. Which really hurts, when you know fully well how I’ve given almost everything to you.
Also, is there really a need to make me feel so inferior? You are complicated and high, I know. I get the point. Every time you speak to me with your language, I feel as if I am speaking to someone from another planet.
I do not want this. I do not deserve this. I guess we really aren’t meant to be.
Tomorrow, I am making it official.
Good bye, Math 14. Tomorrow, I am dropping you.
Know that I really tried to make it work,