I know you’re never going to believe any of this.
I’ve known you long enough to be certain that somehow, as you are reading this, a part of you could not help but laugh, not out of malice, but because that’s simply how things are between us: The years have been filled with laughter, sugar-high drinks, and words.
So on the day you stopped laughing for a while, I wondered where you had gone. Who took the laughter away from the only person whose rainbows and unicorns I had allowed to enter the great and dark fortress of my heart. For a moment, I vowed to cripple that person who had taken the laughter from your eyes and replaced it with something sad, something alien and strange and totally unlike the woman I have come to know. I had thought about hurting this person until he begged for the end to come, for the apocalypse to dawn on his very soul, and I would be there, watching and laughing as the torment continued, for he took something so precious to me that not even his screams of agony could pay for that which he stole.
And then you started to talk, under the mellow lights of a quiet coffee shop, in a city you have never been in but braved anyway, about how you believed he was still a kind person, not a bad person at all. Just someone lost, full of himself, someone young and unsure and insecure, and he wasn’t that terrible at all. At that moment, as you talked about the story of your broken heart, I must have imagined you glowing, for in my eyes you seemed to be more colourful than all the other planets scattered in the universe. Brighter than all the stars and the shades that emerge from a fractured prism. I could not explain how someone who has had their heart broken could look at life still with so much hope and understanding. How someone who had been abandoned without any proper explanation could still find it in herself to look at this deserter with such unending compassion. And I knew then, as I watched the night fall, that perhaps destiny led us to meet because someone had to let me see beyond the darkness of my own soul.
I don’t know if you will believe me when I say that you are more beautiful than you would ever think. That your heart is bigger than the galaxies I’ve dreamed of in my insufferable solitude. I don’t know if you’d believe me when I say you deserve to be loved by someone who is just as colourful, as grandiose in spirit, and that you’d find him in this life one way or another.
But I do.










