like every other night. I know you will dismiss this with your indignant, ‘there you go again’. But hold on, I take my last attempt to collect all those illogical thoughts and put them on paper, for the last time so you could try and make out what it means to be in love and yet lonely. All these days, I was crazy about you and everything about you that I almost missed to realize that I could never ever be your love. I hoped only falsely that you would understand one day and things would be fine. You didn’t and I am not complaining. Perhaps, I should thank you for molding my belief in love. I probably didn’t know that it’s not love to just keep writing letters, like I always did and feel okay about you crushing them all. I wonder if there was no love, why did you have to read them after all. I love you so much that it now hurts badly to keep loving and keep getting ignored in return. I saw you in the café with your new found love, last evening. And trust me, it did not make me cry. For a moment, I felt alright seeing you smile with another man. I am not bitter, really. I know we would be 50, 60,70 someday and it’s nice to wish for all that we want to be. I don’t even know how life would be with out thinking about you or insanely trying to attempt another letter or a gift which I hoped would could change your mind .I hate that I am clueless, but I have had enough that I want to just leave you with your life and I don’t really care what ever comes of it, my life or yours and it seems like a damn good idea to move on. All the letters and flowers that you eventually chucked out, I am happy you did and there’s nothing that reminds me of you or how insane I was. I want to sleep the nights out, hugging the pillow, and go fishing with some wine and party with friends and play squash. I haven’t experienced it in years and oh man, I haven’t had a Life all these years. With this I am gladly burying all your memories and when I wake up, I want to go back to life and be ready to hope that one day I will have my girl, I am yet to meet. Any day, you don’t have to think about where the hell I would be in life for you know, I would be fine though you wouldn’t see me creeping on you with my letters, right now, and am going back to some sleep and wouldn’t really invite you to my dreams. So, just relax.
PS - I felt, melancholy takes better shapes in the hands of a male and I have written like a boy; hope this is set straight. :)