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Literature Text
Dear Missing,
I know I haven't written in a while, but I just thought I should let you know... That there's something I don't know that either of us ever realised about what we are, or were. (Or what we assumed we were at a dozen points in time.) You've changed from the person you were, the person I knew intimately, without ever being a part of you. You're more You, than you used to be; but you're still the You you were.
It's confusing.
And it hurts, or at least it hurts me because what are we? What happened to us being no more than what we wanted, to something that no longer exists except in my memory, because you've probably forgotten. I can't and don't really blame you either. I guess I kind of designed it this way, and Life was more than willing to help.
But as much as I hate that I can't talk to you about inane things, or that you can talk to me about... Whatever we talked about, I'm happy for you. That you're happy, and growing. Moving through things with a sharper smile, and a darkness hiding in you that I noticed but never really watched.
Maybe you'll remember me, but maybe you won't. I never really wanted what they told you I did, not the way they thought it would work. I knew it wouldn't. I wanted someone to help balance me. There's a hole in my soul, a flaw in my design that I know about... Even if you, all of them, think I ignore. I guess I want you to fix me, or to help me fix myself even though I rip parts of your patch work off when you tried.
I don't own you, I never will. You were once one of mine, but you aren't anymore. (I don't know if you chose that, or I did. Not that you'd understand). But I miss you, you know?
From Forgotten(?)
I know I haven't written in a while, but I just thought I should let you know... That there's something I don't know that either of us ever realised about what we are, or were. (Or what we assumed we were at a dozen points in time.) You've changed from the person you were, the person I knew intimately, without ever being a part of you. You're more You, than you used to be; but you're still the You you were.
It's confusing.
And it hurts, or at least it hurts me because what are we? What happened to us being no more than what we wanted, to something that no longer exists except in my memory, because you've probably forgotten. I can't and don't really blame you either. I guess I kind of designed it this way, and Life was more than willing to help.
But as much as I hate that I can't talk to you about inane things, or that you can talk to me about... Whatever we talked about, I'm happy for you. That you're happy, and growing. Moving through things with a sharper smile, and a darkness hiding in you that I noticed but never really watched.
Maybe you'll remember me, but maybe you won't. I never really wanted what they told you I did, not the way they thought it would work. I knew it wouldn't. I wanted someone to help balance me. There's a hole in my soul, a flaw in my design that I know about... Even if you, all of them, think I ignore. I guess I want you to fix me, or to help me fix myself even though I rip parts of your patch work off when you tried.
I don't own you, I never will. You were once one of mine, but you aren't anymore. (I don't know if you chose that, or I did. Not that you'd understand). But I miss you, you know?
From Forgotten(?)
Guess the truth always comes out in the End.
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