Once again, I’m writing to you as if you’re no longer alive.
It’s been almost five years and I still haven’t heard you say, explicitly, that we’re over. When you said we should take a break, I gave you all the space you needed. I waited for your return but you never came back.
I’ve stopped waiting since.
So I need you to know, that I no longer hold it against you. I’ve made peace with the chaos in my chest. My heart and my lungs no longer collide and I, no longer need help breathing.
And if my head goes up in smoke again, I’ll let it float towards the ungodly sky; where no one will notice my stifled heart.
And I hope the carbon in my chest escapes.
And I hope they don’t forget to take my heartache.
Because now I know that closure is a mythical creature.