Remember that day when you said my charm doesn’t work on you? Remember that day when I assholingly asked you how much you weigh? Remember that day when the two of us were watching Pitch Perfect in the middle of a rehearsal and we were arguing because I only wanted to see the parts where they were singing but you wanted to understand the story? Remember that day when we were dancing and you took your high heels off because you were too tall? Also that day when I took your hand to guide you off the stairs because you can’t see the steps with your gown?
Remember the days when we would get to school really early just to spend time with each other without (y)our friends seeing us? Remember the first time I called you just because I was bored and curious about what you were doing? Remember those days when I would pick three six-petaled White Angels and give it to you first thing in the morning? Remember when I left my sister’s parade just to make sure you get home safe and sound and then you hugged me for the first time?
Remember my Birthday? Remember the last Friday before the first Periodical Exam? Remember Jack and Rose? Romeo and Juliet? Us?
Well, I didn’t.
I didn’t remember all these when I left you. All I knew was that I wanted to leave. That I wanted to be free. But I had a reason, of course; I wasn’t happy anymore.
But I was wrong - and will never be more wrong. It was not even an “I am not happy anymore” situation. It was just an “I am not happy right now” situation. I could’ve saved it. I could’ve just calmed down and let that bad week pass without thinking it is because of you. I was so immature and irrational for leaving you. I mean, who the hell would let a girl who changed him so drastically go? Who the hell would hurt a girl who only wants to spend her life with him? Who the hell is that stupid? I am that stupid. I am, that stupid.
I miss the feeling of your hand in my hand, the feeling of your lips on my lips, the feeling of my lips on your hand. I miss that feeling when you smile for me, or when you pierce my soul with your eyes, or when you whisper really close (and hot) to my ear. I miss you - everything about you.
And I want you back, K. I don’t want you to move on. I don’t want you to hold someone else’s hand, I don’t want you to be kissed anywhere by someone else, ever. I am selfish. But I want you back, forever. I want you back so bad because I realized that I am nothing without you. That only you can tame my demons. That only you are the one I truly loved; and that I still love you - everything about you.
It still breaks my heart to see you crying. It even breaks my heart worse than it did when I can still do something about it.
Let me do something about it.
Your own Jack Dawson and Romeo Montague,
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L, age 19