A Letter to the Guy who tried his best. 

To the guy who tried his best to hold on,
The most important things are the hardest to say. Yes, that’s true. But I choose to write them out because it’s the only way to stop the memory ghosts from haunting me.
As long as you were with me, I was so busy looking for little things that I failed to make you mine.

I still remember how your heart beats.

I still remember how you’d smell.

I still remember how your eyes would sparkle on finding me in a crowd.

I still remember the way your lips would curl when you start smiling.

I still remember the way we used to plug in our headset and listen to my music eccentricities.

I remember every picayune details about you.
I know I’m burdening my mind with these thoughts. But do you think there is some way to get rid of them? I know there is no easy way out of this. The thoughts are more devouring than I thought it was going to be. I know you’d be going through the same load of feelings.
You are still the first person I think of when I’m either extremely jubilant or despondent. You are the one that made me believe in myself. This doesn’t happen with every person you meet in your life. It just happens with special ones you know and it flips you upside down.
That’s what people call destiny. I’m not going to believe that you were the one and keep writing depressing stuff about you.No. Instead I’m going to celebrate the infinite joy that you showered on me when we were together.
I’ll write about the endless rooted talks that we used share along the twilight.

I’ll write about the stupid things we used to do that only we could justify as funny.

I’ll write about the dreams and ice-creams that we shared.
But it’s scary. You made me believe that not all people are temporary. I’m afraid that everyone is going to leave someday.

I wish I could lean on your shoulders just one more time and cry my heart out.
I know it’d kill you, looking at me cry. That’s the reason I distance myself from you. You cannot live with the guilt that I’m hurting because of you.
Every time I write something, you’d be the one reading it first.

But I’m not going to let you read this because I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.
I want you to be happy because you deserve it.
From

The girl who still wishes on shooting stars.

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