A Tale as Old as Time

To whom this letter falls upon, a story of love between two souls is told and remembered through this letter. It is a tale told as old as time, a tale of fear and innate love that is profound and terrifying.

I realized I have a habit of always saying things with an intent. An intent to hurt, to bring joy, or bring the words to life, watching it resonate in you and become something you can’t stop thinking of at night. I’ve realized that, most things I’ve said always had a double edged sword, I either wanted to hurt them or it ended up hurting me, when what I said didn’t end up having the causation i wanted it to. You know that, though. You know everything about me, and I as well as you. 

Do you remember that night? When the night sky was darker than usual? The blue hue the moon would often cast, to illuminate the room, no longer there. I remember staring out the window at 4AM, noticing that the streetlamps were not lit either, leaving me in the dark, to stare at nothing. There was no moon to captivate my interest, and no lit streetlamp to help the moon shine. 

I turned over in our bed, and as my eyes became more adjusted to the dark, I was able to see you sleeping so peacefully. A black curl stood at the forefront of your face. As I watched you, a question I needed to ask surged through me like a lightning bolt. Creating an anxiety that rested at the bottom of my stomach. I wanted to ask you that question, now, even though you were sleeping. I couldn’t wait, so I shook you awake and asked anyway.

It was a strange coincidence of fate, as I was about to manage to find the words, you were saved by your alarm for work. You uttered something of “hold on baby” and walked into the bathroom to wake up. 

As you were gone, I knew you weren’t going to ask me what I was gonna say. So, defeated and slowly losing my nerve, I muttered it to myself:

Are we too naïve to realize when a relationship has run its course? Could we recognize when we’ve just become dead bodies in a grave together, slowly desecrating. 

Are you holding me back? Am I holding you back?...Are we holding each other back? 

Have we become our own enemies in this relationship? Not knowing what it looks like when everything has become dull, the paint beginning to dry and crack at the corners. Do you- 

You walked back into bed, interrupting my train of thought. I remember the desperation that rang into my head, the way I silently begged for you to ask me the question again. 

You didn’t. So I said it anyway.

“Do you think we won’t be able to recognize when a relationship has run its course?”

I asked flatly. Mindlessly thanking the moon and street lamps for it’s absence, as I was unable to see him and he was unable to see me.

I remembered you laughing, “Do you think this relationship has run its course?” Throwing the question back at me.

At that moment, I chuckled, the same as him, and said “No, of course not.”

I don’t know if I was lying or not. I still can’t tell you to this day.

I was relieved to realize that he couldn’t see my face when he asked me the question, because he may have figured out the answer. As I was as well, since I couldn’t see yours. Only holding on to each other's voices. 

I remembered what you once said to me in bed when I had brought the question up again. The sunlight bouncing off your eyes as they stared into mine: we will feel it when that happens. 

To that, I wanted to say: When do you know when a relationship is over? When can you feel it? What does it feel like? Is it something we will know? Is it like a person that is on their deathbed, knowing it’s their time to go? Is it a spontaneous understanding of it’s complexity, the need to leave when it is still good, just complacent at times. Is it a decision that needs to be made? You are all I have, you are all I’ve known, I am all you’ve ever known. We don’t know what it is supposed to feel like, older now, regressing back into the same relationship we were in as teenagers when this question came up, too scared to say goodbye yet knowing it was time to; yet never, ever, breaking the rope that tied us together. 

I asked you: “Do you think we’d break up, not because we want to, but because we love each other too much? Because we can’t handle this? Do you think this type of heartbreak is worse than a heartbreak that has simmered for months, to the point where it doesn’t seem to hurt anymore?”

I recalled the way you took a couple seconds to answer what I said. I studied your face to notice how you wanted to answer the question carefully, honestly, consider your own emotions and mine. It was at that time I didn’t realize how well you had handled my spurs of emotion and doubts. How well you seemed to answer questions like this. How well you seemed to handle me at times, knowing what to say or joke about to wash away my intrusive thoughts. But I believe a part of me didn’t want you to handle them as well as you did, or know me like the back of your hand. I think a part of me wanted you to get tired of me, and let me go. 

I don’t remember what spurred me into saying that to you. 

Maybe I just wanted to hurt you, but even so, 

I couldn't tell you, as I cannot remember anymore.

What I remember the clearest was what you finally said, how you held me and told me that I was your dream. The home you found in my arms when I held you at night. How you said that you love me more than words could describe. 

Riddled with guilt, I said nothing in return. And you knew that. What I yearned to tell you the most was that, my god, you are my soulmate. I will always love you, no matter the day, no matter how empty the night sky or how dull the morning sun is. 

My heart will always be with you, and it will beat for you. 

It still does, as we grew older, as I watched you grow into the one I’ve always loved, you were the person I only ever needed. No longer the two kids in high school, no longer running from the reality we had ahead of us together, our desolation turning into clothes that were thrown to the ground. You grew alongside me, and you walked separately from me, but in the same darkness I exhibited. I thank you for it and I’m grateful to you every morning I wake now, without you in our bed anymore.