To Mr 11 days

Sometimes I say phrases like, "I miss you," and my brain steps in, asking if I really do miss the person or just the feeling I felt. How much of an injustice it would be to your soul if I accept that I only miss the feeling of having you, of feeling less lonely in this world, and then crawl back to you, telling you how much I missed you. This is wrong to your heart, but my heart really craves that feeling — the feeling of being loved, of witnessing what gentle masculinity is, of feeling how loving a man can be in a world where dads only scream.

I know it’s wrong to return to someone just for the feeling, not for the person, and so I choose to remain in this corner of the world — not trying to write you letters, not trying to make you feel how my world has fallen apart since you left. But isn't it crazy? How much our minds rationalize our feelings — our hearts.

If only I could hear the deafening noise of my heart saying, "I miss you," while completely shutting down my mind, I’m sure I would have been on a call with you by now.

I remember when you resisted leaving me. I remember how you stood outside my home almost daily, wanting me back. And I secretly watched you each day from my window, hoping you would leave soon, and praying to God — despite being an atheist — to make you walk away. But nothing happened, and I almost saw you every day, standing outside my home.

But one night, you didn't come. I felt sad, but again, my mind rationalized my feelings, and I pretended to be at peace. But a part of me still waited for tomorrow, just to see you.

Then came tomorrow again — and you still didn’t knock on my door. Looked like my prayers really got accepted, and you really left. But isn't it what I wanted?

Despite it all, I miss you daily. I miss you still, and I’ll probably miss you even after I finish writing this.

Just 11 days. You were an 11-day-long dream. Some might call it an illusion. But you were real. My soul felt it.

You were a fucking amazing human being. I never wanted to make you feel like you weren’t deserving of anything, or that you weren’t good enough. You were glitters on gold. You were sunlight falling on oceans.

You were deep, profound, and so alluring. My soul recognized you like we had met before.

But like any dream, it ended — and I never got over it. 

And sometimes I feel God took you away from me because you deserved better, or perhaps He wanted to punish me for not accepting my heart.

But I really loved your soul — like it camouflaged with mine.