I Wish We Had More Time

My dear friend

I hope this letter finds you like one finds happiness. I hope that when I finish writing it, you will be able to forgive me. This letter is one of a kind. Because in all the other letters, I was the one left with a broken heart, but today you are broken in ways I cannot describe, and I am to blame. I hope you forgive me after reading it; if you don’t, I will forgive you. I do not break hearts because I know what it feels like to carry the broken pieces of it within everywhere we go, but I broke your heart into two, and all you did was smile at me. You are exceptional, my friend, and you will continue to be as long as my hands keep writing and my heart keeps loving.

I remember the first day when I saw you. With a cigarette in your hand, you shyly took one tiny glance at me, and when I looked back, you looked away. There must have been something intriguing about you. Every time I sat on the balcony, I waited for you to look at me and then look back. It was our thing. We were perfect balcony lovers. And then comes the day when you finally talked to me. I will remember that. Incidentally, it was the same day that I decided to ask you your name or, at the very least, say hello. But before I could do that, you said, “Excuse me, I have no wrong intentions, but you are adorable.” I will never forget that smile. It was raw; you were scared and happy at the same time. And that was when our story began.

From glancing at each other for hours to sitting together at your place, life taught us many things: to love, break, heal, support, cry, smoke, end things, and bid goodbyes. Every time I think about Delhi, I’ll think about you. How can I not? You were special. You are special. Whatever it is in your heart will always guide you to do the right thing. There are things that I won’t say and things you wouldn’t want to hear, but for what it’s worth, we both know what it is.

From saying good morning at 6am to a good night at 12, we became more than just friends. You are not the kind of person I can possibly end in one letter, so I wrote to many. We cannot be together in ways the world approves or asks us to, but we’ll always be together in our own way. Delhi will always remind me of you, especially the balcony and the alleys we walked in, hand in hand and with smiles on our faces.

We smiled until our cheeks started to hurt, and we cried until our eyes bled. I did that to you, and I am sorry. My apology may not undo the harm, but I hope it will lessen the pain. Or at least help you to move on.

Asking for the hotspot to not ask it anymore, we grew up and apart. I wish I had met you before my life went haywire. It would have saved me from a thousand heartbreaks and agony. But life has its own way of handling things, bringing people close and drifting them away. I guess life is to blame, or maybe me. I wanted to tell you about all the stories I keep buried in my heart and laugh until our stomachs begin to hurt. We did not do justice to the love and to ourselves.

Life is a misery only if you know what it means, and if you do not, it seems to be a fairytale. Our fairytale. You’ll live in the stories I will tell my children and my heart. It’s the least I can do. I cannot ask you for anything because you gave me more than I deserved. I would like to take a moment and thank you for that. I am grateful to the universe for sending you to me.

I wish we had more time, and I wish I had not broken your heart. I wish you all the best for your future. Not as if you need any, but still, good luck, my dear friend. I’ll remember you whenever I think about the moon and hug you when I look at it. Not physically, but you know what I mean. I will never fall short of words when it comes to you. You have a piece of my heart; keep it safe until I return to take it. And if I don’t, just know that I believe it is safer with you.

Good luck, V

Yours Boycut