One day, I will no longer be awkward. I will lose my sarcasm. I will no longer be afraid of what the world thinks about me and I won’t bother if it doesn’t think about me at all. Nothing will matter.
But when that happens, I hope you’ll remember me as I am now. I hope you’ll miss me. I hope you’ll wish I’d never changed.
We don’t talk anymore but that’s okay. You don’t call anymore, and that’s just fine. We don’t laugh anymore, not like before. You don’t cry anymore, that’s just me. It’s life, and we’re not the same people we used to be.
I didn’t want to let go because I was afraid of missing out on something that could’ve been, but the my hands are getting blisters from holding on, and we’re ruining good memories with bad ones.
So I’m finally letting it all go, because I know it will get better. Holding on is always the more difficult option. It confuses me greatly, because it’s the in-between. Holding on is suspended in mid-air, between all and nothing, and it requires an accurate control of expectations, an in-between kind of relationship.
Letting go is more befitting in this story. Letting go requires just a loosening of the grasp. It is in the extreme; so all energy is focused on just the act of release. Letting go promises a relief, and that’s what I hope it brings to us both.
One day, we won’t miss it anymore. And I’ll be a dream you dreamt you had.