Though this letter is addressed to you, I actually wrote this for myself. I want to steer away from this emotion. And these words you’re about to read is meant to hurt me as it is the only way to filter out all of my feelings.
There is an irrevocable distance between us.
If we are notes in a sheet music, you’d always be a note subjacent to me. If we are a theatrical play, you’d be comedy, I’d be tragedy. If we are natural numbers, you’d be positive, I’d be negative. If we are parts of a novel, you’d be the climax, I’d be the falling action. If we are seasons, you’d be summer, I’d be winter. Opposites attract wouldn’t work with us. We’ll always meet but will never be together. Eternally asymptotic.
And I wonder why gravity for pulled me nearer to you only to realize we are light years apart.