Your First Kintsugi Project

My dear lost friend,

I hope you are reading this letter. I hope that for just this one time, you do not just read it but understand what it means. I hope that when I fall out of words, you will help me find new ones. When you read this, I hope you come to meet me and see how I have been doing without you. I hope you realize that I have always been incomplete without you and how much I need you.

I do not remember when we first met, but I am certain that it was at the right place and time because my life changed when we did. It changed in a way that I was awestruck. I did not know that I could be someone I had become then. You had a proclivity for uplifting the broken ones. It was as if you believed you could fix the broken pieces of everyone who needed someone to do that for them. You were a born Kintsugi artist, my friend. You tried to put broken pieces back together with love and empathy — believing that by embracing someone’s flaws and imperfections, you will be able to create an even stronger, more beautiful piece out of the broken ones. You believed in love like no one ever will. You believed that love never breaks, but love is what is capable of healing. You understood what it felt like to be broken, damaged, shattered, severed, and crushed. You knew the world would not put those pieces back together, so you tried to do what others wouldn’t.

I know you were always inclined towards the broken ones and wanted to fix them. But what you forgot in the process of breaking and piecing was that not everyone deserves an artist like you. It was your first project. I am calling it a project because when you saw me crying in my dark and untidy room, you couldn’t stop yourself. You felt like you had to do it, that you could do it. You held my hand whenever I felt I didn’t have one. You hugged me when I was certain that no one ever will. You switched the lights on, not only in the room but also in my life. You lifted me to a height where depression and anxiety couldn’t touch my feet. You taught me how to fly without wings. You made sure that I would never break again.

I remember the last time I saw you. If only I had known how weak and vulnerable I’d become after you left, I would’ve never let you go. I would’ve held onto your hand like you held onto mine when I needed you. You left me when you thought that I was unbreakable. You thought that if you stay, it’ll make me fragile and feeble. But, my dear friend, you were wrong. You never did come to see me again after that, and I believe that is why you do not know what happened after you did. While sitting in the same room, trying to switch the lights on, I found out they were out of my reach. When I tried flying, I fell. When I tried to push depression away, it gripped my feet and could reach my neck this time. I broke again, but only this time you didn’t come to hold those broken pieces firmly and put them back. You did not return.

It took me a few years to realize that it was not me who was at fault but you. If you hadn’t come to repair me the first time, I would’ve learned to do that for myself. But you did not have faith in me and became my savior. You didn’t have to, but you did because, as I said, you cannot stop yourself when you see something broken. If you had stayed, maybe I wouldn’t have shattered ever again. If you had stayed, maybe I would’ve never failed at flying. Maybe I would’ve learned to piece myself together if you had stayed. But only if you had stayed. You didn’t.

I am writing to you to let you know I need you. I need you to be with me for the rest of my life. I need you because I am alone in this world trying its best to break me. I am alone, my friend. Come back because this broken heart needs you to fix it. Come back to remind me that I can be strong again. Come back to help me hold myself together because I cannot do it alone without you. Come back because I miss you. Come back, if not for me, for your first Kintsugi project.

With a weeping heart that longs for you,

The one you lost on your way back home,
Shallu Jaglan