Dear Es,

I ask myself, for what could be the millionth time, why can’t I let go of you. But I know the answer, and it has been clear to me for as long as a year now. I can’t because I’d just never been loved, like by you ever before and so I hold on. And to think it was all but a facade, will never cease to hurt me but that won’t keep me from remembering the good times and smile at happy memories we created while I was blissfully unaware of the truth about you. .

You came into my life when I was at my vulnerable most, bulldozed through the walls that I had built over years and called me, yours. It embarrasses now when I think about then; I’d been so utterly naïve but I couldn’t have been happier. I’d just needed somebody to love.

When I think about it, my relationship with you had felt the realest and the very best that I’d ever had; and yet it wasn’t. But it didn’t and doesn’t matter. Those four months of you had been the happiest four months of my life, to this day.

I remember how we’d talk for ages, late night over the phone and you’d ask me to sing you to sleep. I’d always been so terribly embarrassed and terribly shy to sing for anyone despite all those years of music classes and singing on stage when I was much younger. You were just so stubborn, till I gave in and then it became a ritual of sorts. Every single night.

I remember, you could make me laugh so hard. And how I’d tell you about things I could never tell anyone else, and how you’d whisper comforting sweet things when I’d feel low. You were my best friend and everything I ever needed. Somebody who’d always be there for me, and to call mine.

I remember meeting you, the first time after we had become us. Your smile took my breath away and it was happiness I couldn’t contain. It awes me to this day how I managed to make it across the alley to you without stumbling and falling down despite the sudden intense weakness in my knees and violent butterflies in my tummy. I remember everything about that day, every single tiny detail and never can or will I forget.

Summer of ’15 had been the best summer of my life till then. Do you remember how you’d come all the way, from the other end of town, and we’d spend hours wrapped in each other , our limbs entwined and laughing for the silliest things? Those few hours would make up for the hundreds that would pass without you. And that one time in the kitchen when you came from behind, hugged me and kissed my neck. To this day, it brings a tingle in my heart when I think about how complete I felt that day. How I’d always wished to be held like that. But that is but one of many, many moments. The smallest of things you’d do would bring me infinite joy. And when time would come for you to leave, I’d lean up, stand on my tiptoes and you’d kiss me and immediately hold me because my knees would go weak each time and I’d stumble. You were so tall and your arms so big and strong, they’d envelope me completely and make me feel the safest I’d ever felt. I’d feel on top of the world. And your scent, one that remains my favourite to this day wouldn’t leave the couch for days and I’d blush every single time I’d catch a whiff of it at the most unexpected of times.

Ah, and my birthday, when you tried so hard to surprise me. Never in my life before had someone taken so much of effort and it rendered me speechless; the kind of love and gratitude I felt then for you overwhelmed me. To this day, I keep our movie tickets, donut and cocktail place souvenirs, the card, the wrapping paper and the empty box of the Ferrero Rochers, my favourite; they are keepsakes of a happier time, the best day of my life last year. So maybe everything ended the way it did, but I hold on to the sheer joy in my heart that I felt those days, and try and forget the pain that followed.

But my favourite memories, the one I miss so terribly would be when you’d call me in the morning as you’d wake up, your voice sleepy, husky and soft and you’d kiss me over the phone and say the sweetest things; all your defences down at your innocent most and my heart would melt at how adorable you could get.

I miss that. I miss how blissfully happy I was.

Maybe it isn’t you I can’t let go. Maybe it’s our memories. Our memories which still hold an inescapable grip on me and are powerful enough to break me down or leave me wishing for happier times, and a chance to just relive it all.

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Published by

karthikaaaa

20, Bangalore. Christ University. Writer, Photographer.

One thought on “Dear Es,”

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