Dear Hanshika,
Things are hard to swallow; certainly when those are reminiscing of chances you missed, truth you could not run from, people who did not love you back or even but more so people who loved you back but left anyway. Can I just say, I am sorry.
When you were thirteen and he ripped you to shreds and I could not stand for you.
When he struck you down at sixteen and I could not leave him.
When your best friend betrayed you and I still trusted her.
When your father left at just five, and till now I still make tea for him.
You are not meant for all the pain you had to take upon your chest. Some strangles you at night. Certain makes you want to keep your feet off the ground. I am extremely and sincerely sorry that when everybody was leaving, I did not stay either.
You thought I would be different and I turned out to be just like the rest.
I wished I could have been here in the moments you begged for an angel to a God you had lived your entire existence to question. That maybe, my presence would have made yours a little more bearable if I had only put aside my thoughts to embrace you in my warmth. Your eyes would not have been this lifeless if I had helped bring it light instead of just questioning why you did not install a lamp near your bed.
I could have saved you.
You were so close to my fingers but I was so selfish, I kept them in my pockets.
And you gave and gave and gave.
Until you had nothing left.
I yelled and screamed.
Instead of loving you.
You will be twenty soon and I want to live. So, stay alive for me. Because if you die, I won't have a body to keep
living in through.
Let's live to spite the curse.
Four more years and one day.
Then we can die.
With love,
H.
Things are hard to swallow; certainly when those are reminiscing of chances you missed, truth you could not run from, people who did not love you back or even but more so people who loved you back but left anyway. Can I just say, I am sorry.
When you were thirteen and he ripped you to shreds and I could not stand for you.
When he struck you down at sixteen and I could not leave him.
When your best friend betrayed you and I still trusted her.
When your father left at just five, and till now I still make tea for him.
You are not meant for all the pain you had to take upon your chest. Some strangles you at night. Certain makes you want to keep your feet off the ground. I am extremely and sincerely sorry that when everybody was leaving, I did not stay either.
You thought I would be different and I turned out to be just like the rest.
I wished I could have been here in the moments you begged for an angel to a God you had lived your entire existence to question. That maybe, my presence would have made yours a little more bearable if I had only put aside my thoughts to embrace you in my warmth. Your eyes would not have been this lifeless if I had helped bring it light instead of just questioning why you did not install a lamp near your bed.
I could have saved you.
You were so close to my fingers but I was so selfish, I kept them in my pockets.
And you gave and gave and gave.
Until you had nothing left.
I yelled and screamed.
Instead of loving you.
You will be twenty soon and I want to live. So, stay alive for me. Because if you die, I won't have a body to keep
living in through.
Let's live to spite the curse.
Four more years and one day.
Then we can die.
With love,
H.
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