We Met At the Beach

To the person I met on a beach and carried into every story since,

I hope you’re doing well, but I’d rather ask. How are you? How have you been? Does work still make you feel like your head might explode? I hope it keeps you busy, because I know how much you love your baby, Aagaara. I don’t know what the name means, and I’m too lazy to look it up, but it sounds beautiful.

You know how I turn everything that happens into a story? I never wanted you to become one of them. Most of my stories feel like just that: stories. I don’t feel connected to them anymore. They belong to the past, and the people in them are no longer in my life. I didn’t want you to become part of the past. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you in my life.

You were the first person I was so attracted to, but didn’t want to sleep with straight away. So, yes, you were my first in more ways than one.

I had never gone on dates, visited cafés, or travelled to meet someone. I thought I could never do those things for anyone. Then I did them for you. Being with you felt magical. When I saw you waving to me on the beach, I fell for you. It felt like a trance, like something I had never felt before.

I did all of it because some foolish part of me thought I might have a chance at love, and that someone might love me back. I walked beside you holding hands. I smiled like an idiot. I heard violins in my head. I felt almost everything people say love makes you feel.

And then there was the part I have to remind myself of: maybe it was all in my head.

You broke my heart. Well, maybe I broke it myself. I keep going back and forth. You seemed like the perfect guy, always saying the right thing, always showing up in the right place, always knowing how to make me feel at home and make me smile like a fool. I can’t think of anything you did wrong. So I tell myself it was all me.

I felt everything. I thought about you, dreamed about you, loved you, laughed with you, cried over you. I went on dates. I travelled. I wondered what it all meant. Then I cried, and somehow I felt as if I had lost everything. It still feels like a dream. I had never felt so good in my life. Then it had to end.

I wish I could describe what I feel for you, but I know I’ll trip over the words and make a mess of them. You’ve read my letters before, but you never knew how much I cried while writing each one.

You keep asking if I need anything. I do. I want someone to hold me and wrap their arms around me. That’s what I need from you. That’s all.

The last twelve hours have been the craziest of my life. The first thing I wanted to do when I woke up was write this. I’m sorry for feeling all of this and making you part of it. Whatever the future brings, I’m sorry I felt too much, and that I felt like too much for you. :’)

Still your someone in Krabi,

M.