Dear Jyoti
My love,
I am scared that I have failed you. Like, really badly.
You know how I hated being drunk in Portland alone on the bed and staring at my emptiness. Remember, how I hated being hungover in Spain; just lying in bed eating oreos. Remember how in Hong Kong, on the Friday of Easter I had most of a bottle of wine with shitty cracker and most of a cereal box. I’ve failed you.
I was someone beautiful once and I have failed to be the person you ought to be. I fail you because I don’t know how to be a person right now. I don’t know why I exist at all. Love shatters me, life shatters me and I question: I question the coronavirus. I question the outsides I cannot enter. I question the fact that I’d like to eat but can’t. I question why I grow fat and why I refuse to do things. I question cos I am scared.
You knew happiness once. Where has it gone? You had purpose once, where is that now? You wanted things, is that still around? My dear, I feel like I’m nowhere to be found.
You were my generous hope, my one true saviour. Now, you’re gone and I feel so alone. I promised you my life cos you were my life but now, I have nothing to give. You are nowhere to see.
I love you so so much. Come back. Just come back and I’ll do a 1000 sit-ups for you. I’d walk a 100 miles around for you. I’ll do crunches for all of time and squats would be my best friend for life. I’d never eat another carbs if I could have you back. I’d never taste another drink if I could just feel you back.
Come back. I miss you. I lost you because life became about things, about kindles and yoga and trigger point balls, about shampoos that don’t fix hair but let them fall, about men who leave without turning a glance, once you left, all my life was gone.
Come back my love, that’s all I ask. Come back my strength and I’ll walk the miles. Come back my journey and destination can go fuck itself. Come back my life, cos death doesn’t wait.
Love,
Me.