Dear (Why Owe U),
I've been writing and writing about how I feel for you, and maybe someday all these letters will reach you in the most auspicious way. You may or may not know that they are for you. But at least they'd reached you somehow. But that is all for the hopes of it reaching you.
In the midst of all the epics and epochal circumstances that we had and never had, and all the epiphanies of prequels and sequels that we realized and never known. Here is what I thought.
As much as I don't believe in meaningless encounters, I don't trust fate either.
I believe that Destiny has it's way of cruel manipulations. Giving you a moment of bliss and peace, making all pieces fall in their right places, just to ruin it for the second you made yourself believed. Endless circles of rippling chaos, making you disheartened and not trusting again. Not to the person you love, but to destiny herself. As if she is jealous of all the love that hopeless romantics could give.
Maybe that's the price of being with eternity. The jealousy of not having just a lifetime. A lifetime to love just one completely.
Maybe that's why she make it a point that everyone will love but not the right one right away.
She would make it hard until you just want to give up.
And I know in her most sharpest evil eyes, she's laughing on all of us.
Laughing on how naive we are. Doomed from the beginning but still do it and keep on doing it anyway. Punching the moon and hitting the scorching sun.
And it satisfy her to see us miserable.
But I want you to know that as much as my pride wanted to soar high. I am trying to be friends with destiny. Thinking maybe I could please her or something, and maybe for that little illusions that I have, she might want to lift a finger for a chance of a happy ever after.
So much for my allusions.
But what I am trying to say is, if only I could have been braver, or more trusting, or Weaker? Maybe the story of us is different.
From the fragments of my memories of you, I always reimagining the simplest things. The silly arguments about "Anthony and Mace". How you keep on siding him. But I know exactly where you're heading. So I tried my best not to push you on the verge of confession, because I know I don't have the courage to turn it down as well when I knew all your plans, and the conversation we're having will ruin all your dreams ahead. It is the decency of merciful lies (as what Elijah said), that is my kind of love for you. The decency of merciful lies for you to follow your dreams without hesitation. The decency of merciful lies so you won't think about what I feel.
And maybe our story has ended a long time ago.
But please don't ask why I am still writing sequels after sequels.
Just let me indulge in our story that never happened.
The creative fiction that keep on playing in every figment of my imagination.
Because there, in that littlest fragment of my version of our story, I have my happy ever after.
Til then, the book of fiction about you will continue to be written by me.
I told you before, I maybe just a page in your life...
But you are an entire book to me... Maybe even a trilogy.
Love,
Me
Footnotes:
Unsent Letters are series of letters written personally but is never sent. And in the hopes of it reaching the person addressed, I post it here.
For Unsent Letters (Part 1) link
Click 👉Unsent Letters (Part 1)