Letter To My Could-Be Valentine





Hey,

 

You’re fine, I hope?

 

I, too, am fine. Not happy though.

 

How can I be?

 

It’s the Valentine’s week, which is somewhat depressing and gloomy for most of the single souls out there.

 

Loitering around the lanes of my favorite market near India Gate, I come across the gift galleries and flower shops – all immersed in red. Red is love. Albeit red is my favorite, too; however, overuse of the poor color often makes me nauseous.

 

February annoys me; not because I need gifts or flowers but because it makes me wish for a person, whom I would bestow all my love upon. I wish to spoil someone; make them feel special.

 

Precisely, you.

 

But then reality hits me hard and I realize that I have nobody, because I cannot have you.

 

Almost three months and twenty one days have passed since I realized how intensely you make me feel; how frantically I’ve fallen for you. But I keep chanting that you’re just a crush – a mere infatuation, and would last for no more than a while. Perhaps, this too shall pass. I desperately hope this does.

 

By now, you must have a subtle idea about how I feel for you, and probably that is why you have started maintaining certain gap between us. You think that I don’t notice, don’t you?

 

Don’t you fret, love, I’m not going to create any nuisance. I’m a chaos, and I won’t want to mess up with your life. I’ll keep mum.

 

Time and again I console myself by assuming that if you could have been with me, you definitely would have. For now, you have her. And I do wish the best for you both.

 

I have accepted that I cannot be with you, not in this lifetime at least. Perhaps, I’m just a traveler and you, the road forbidden.

 

I have no expectation, neither any complaint. I know it isn’t your fault, but it isn’t mine either; yet ultimately, it’s me – who has to suffer.

 



Why isn’t love deliberate & planned? Why is it impulsive & unintentional?

 

Why do we fall for someone without even knowing if they would revert the same feelings or not?

 

I know it isn’t your fault. Again, it isn’t mine either.

 

But you don’t have to worry about me, dear.

 

I’ll be fine. Someday.

 

Until then, I’ll just pretend to be.

 

Love

A

 


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