A Letter

It's been exactly 3 months since I last saw you. September 6. It, too, was a Wednesday. You saw me off to the MRT station, kissed me and said we'd see each other in October. I walked into the station to go home, not knowing things would soon fall apart. You'd soon fall apart.

Life was somewhat of a whirlwind after that, for me. I grabbed onto every thread of hope, clenched it in my hands, and convinced myself you'd come back. I couldn't make sense of anything. People kept telling me to calm down, to sort my life out first, but to me that directly translated into "forget him, he's gone, get on with your life." That meant leaving you behind in your corner, and I just wasn't ready to do that.

And now 3 months have passed. Despite moments of loneliness and vulnerability (during some of which I've done unspeakable stupid things), I've managed to stay strong. And still here, as I said, held down by a seatbelt made of faith. But most importantly, I've finally found peace of mind. This did not come from any sort of reassurance that things would be good for us again, because there is none. But rather, I found it in the proceedings of everyday life, realizing that life really does go on, and I'm my own anchor again. I am feeling more grounded and content than I have in a long time, and it occurred to me that it wouldn't have been possible if you hadn't left me.

So maybe it's a good thing. I'm reminded of every analogy drawn between a longterm commitment and a plastic band pulled too hard or a string wound too tight. Maybe that was it. Maybe we just need to each go back to our own place and find ourselves again until balance is restored. I hope magical things are happening to you too, and that we'll both be wiser, stronger, happier, together or apart.

Yours, still
M