January 21, 2012
I’ve been thinking whether or not to call you baby. And I think calling you baby will be very assumputous of me. After all, how can I call you baby when you walked away from me?
It’s been exactly nine days now since you told me to stop calling you because you won’t answer anymore. It’s been exactly nine days now since you told me that you fell out of love.
It’s been nine days, a long, tough, excruciating nine days, and I am still trying to find answers as to how we fell apart.
I don’t want to blame myself anymore, neither do I want to blame you.
For someone who told me that he loves me, and who promised to always love me and never let me go, I find it hard to understand, nor believe that you can walk away from me just like that.
At night, when it’s cold, I still wonder if you miss holding my hand. You used to say that I always keep you warm, that even when we are apart, just hearing my voice is enough to give you a good night sleep embraced in warmth under your sheets.
I love you in November, even though we were always arguing. I love you in December even when I was in Sydney and you stayed in Cairo, and I love you now, even when I’m not seeing you, even when you left me out in the cold and in the middle of confusion and heartache.
This is what I don’t understand. I love you yesterday, today, and I know that I will love you tomorrow, so how is it possible that you stopped loving me just like that?
I’m sorry, I just said I won’t blame you anymore, and yet here I am, trying to accuse you of not loving me enough.
It’s crazy, I know, especially when I say that I love you for everything that you are and yet I hate you for everything that you do.
At night, I wonder what you are doing. Are you keeping yourself warm? The winter in Cairo is just unbearable, especially now that you are gone. Are you well? Are you happy? Have you found someone else who is keeping you warm?
I want to know the answer, and yet I don’t want to know.
Every morning, I still look at all our pictures, of you and me looking so happy and in love. We were happy before, we were in love before, it was real and true, so how is it possible that it is no longer the same?
I miss you so much, the warmth of your fingers intertwined with mine, your kisses that send shivers down my spine, your deep brown eyes that tell a lot even when we are both silent, your smell, even when you had a long, tough day at work.
I miss it all, I miss everything, I miss you, I miss us.
Tonight, I know I will be thinking the same thing, do you still miss us? Do you still think about us the way I do?
Sometimes I like to trick myself into thinking that you still feel the same, but you are just not telling me.
Sometimes, I like to think that you are just waiting for February 5, when it’s supposed to be our third month together and you will just magically show up at my doorstep, professing that you have always loved me.
And that is why I am still writing you this letter, because I still like to believe that one day, it will happen. You and me.
Letting you go would mean that I have accepted that you will no longer be a part of me, and I am not ready for that. So I am holding on, no matter how much it hurts, because this is the only way I know I’ll get on with my everyday.
So, how are you doing? How have you been? Do you still think about me? Do you still love me?
I want to know, and at the same time, I don’t want to know.