This must be my millionth love letter to you. And even after all this time, after all the damage. After everything you did to destroy, and continue to do. Something essential remains simple.
What I'm trying to say is, my love for you is no longer the same. But, that, its still there. It still exists. Its no longer a happiereverafter kinda love. It metamorphized. It had to. But it didn't evaporate. And if you ever needed me to, I'd find it in me to hold you together.
Does this mean I'm a weaker person? Does this mean I'm a stronger person. Does this mean all my lovers after you will give me trouble, be vary of the room in my mind that belongs to you? I don't know. And, honestly, I don't care. Because noone can replace your room. And you have no hope of ever entering theirs.
But friends? Hell no. 'Friend' to me is such a sacred word. It takes almost nothing to make someone a lover. Some clothes come off. Some terms of endearment. And, thats all. But friends? When the clothes are back on, and your name stays what it should, they still know you better than any of the people that walk in and out of your life.
I don't need a definition. I never really did. Maybe you lulled me into the world of definitions. But I always knew I was only just visiting, and thats why it was so painfully sweet.
So I just want you to know that in this world that is fickle. I am not.
I am still here. And, my walls maybe back up. They have reason to be. But underneath it all, I will love you always.
Not forever, but always.
Love Always,
me
*finding this scribbled letter sparked off this blog
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