P.S...I Love You.

A letter from a young girl to the man she loves, as she leaves him forever. Warning: joyous heartbreak.

Dear Sir,

 

I am sorry to bother you, but there are a few things that I simply must say.

 

I remember that day when we first met. It was a bright, sunny day, as if the world itself was radiating with joy. We knew each other before then, but I though you a presumptuous, vain snob and you thought me a queer, sanctimonious child. We were forced, if I remember correctly, to sit together in physics, all the other, more preferable seats taken. Neither of us was happy, about this, and through the first months of this ‘togetherness’ we argued about the simplest things. And then somewhere, through endless arguing, bickering, and palpable hatred, I fell in love.

 

At first, I had no clue as to what to make of this. When we were younger, I remembered adoration towards you, but these new feelings were blossoming into something much greater than adolescent love. I started to notice your physical identity: how your eyes crinkled at the side, how you would lean forward when arguing, your adorable expanse of forehead, your constantly flipped brownish hair, and your messy handwriting.  And then I noticed how you would think carefully every time before speaking, how you could make the most ugly words sound beautiful, how carefully you would work, and how gently you spoke even while arguing.

 

I was infatuated with you. You ruled my every thought, and my stomach would quiver with exited fear every time I saw you. I desperately looked forward our spats in physics, and would be terribly disappointed when the work given would simply not allow us to talk. And outside of that one class, to my dismay, we rarely saw or talked to each other. It had never bothered me before, since you were not the ruler of my dreams then, but once you took the throne, every moment led to the painfully short forty-two minutes I would spend with you.

 

Then came the insatiable urge to make myself better, rightly done in your name. I started dressing more consciously, took more care towards my hair, and started wearing light makeup. My body protested towards these changes (I was a naturally laid-back person), but I kept perusing these superficial things for you.

 

But alas, nothing would bring your eyes to me. You had someone in your life at the time, and I was a fool to think that you would cheat upon someone you loved for me. Though I hoped that I might win your affections, I never expected to, and soon I forced myself not to give into undiluted hope. Because of this, I never sought to change myself for you, apart from menial, physical things. I never wished for you and her to let go of each other; I wanted only your happiness.

 

However, we became fast friends. I now talked to you more than ever before, and not just in class. We would sometimes meet together (with other friends, of course) for outings and concerts. We sat near each other on the bus. You even accompanied me to temple one day, citing a desire to learn more about my beliefs and practices.

 

I learned to be happy with only your presence.  Though my dreams and thoughts were consumed by you, I never made an attempt towards you, never trying to close the small distance in between us. You were happy with whom you were, and for me, this friendship between us was enough.

 

But not any longer. My heart aches for you, and all that I know about you. For me, it is no longer a physical attraction, but a calling from the soul. I ask to break this newly found friendship for the sake of my being. I find no joy in your company anymore, only heartache and sorrow. You are happy with the way things are in your life, and I have no wish to ruin this. As I leave your life forever tomorrow, I wish you nothing but happiness and success. I hope that someday, when skies and rain have healed the delicate silver inside me, that we might be friends once again; but for now, I cannot bear any connection to you.

 

It will be better for both of us this way, and I do not want to cause you any embarrassment nor sorrow at my words. I beseech you, forget me and live on, as I will also try to do. I know I speak as if there was something more in between us, and I know that there was none – only imagining on my part. I hope that you travel to far places, with the one you love, and find sunny skies and unrequited dreams wherever you go.

Cordially,

 

Deepshikha.

 

 

Author's Note

NOTHING OF THE SORT HAS HAPPENED TO ME. I simply felt the words coming and started writing them down. However, I do feel as if I've helped relieved someone's pain; someone far away who suddenly feels lighter.

Reviews

[Tony Woods]

Well this is a departure from cows and papyrus, but it's really good. I know you said this is a work of fiction, and I'm sure you don't want anyone's pity (or rather, fake pity since this never happened to you), but I can't help but feel sorry for you or whoever wrote this. It kind of gave me that primal urge to yell at the television when the referee makes a bad call, like "Dude, she's perfect for you! Why don't you want her!" But obviously we only know one side to this story so that it a bit pre-mature.

You use a lot of really great adjectives, or what neanderthal's would call them - "big werdz"...very elegant, I could see you writing in the New Yorker or some Ivy League Journal. Reading this was like watching a fluffy feather slowly rock back and forth to the ground, and I mean that as a compliment.