It’s been approximately 2 years and 5 days since I last opened my drawer. It was tucked between my bed and the window that adorned my bedroom. The medium-sized blue nightstand was a stark contrast to my beige walls that suffocate my existence. It’s like that nightstand and the walls are singing two different songs, two different melodies. Why was it so hard to pick out that grey nightstand at the store? Compared to the one I have now, it was much more polished, beautiful, fresh, new. I always muster some lousy form of courage to take it home, but then I push that bravery away, shoving its existence aside.
To be truthful though, I know why. I know the answer. The letters. The sentiment. The inside of that drawer is mostly hollow, empty, and filled with nothing but air and eerie comfort. To me, it’s the passage to a hostile past. Yet I am locked by the chains of conflict. I don’t want to miss anything that’s not here anymore but no matter how my brain tries to connect the pieces, it always focuses on what’s missing and what’s needed and not what is real. What already happened.
Her letters reminded me of those hot summer nights where we would fish and maybe dance to some tacky song while simultaneously reminding ourselves of the beauty of being alive. So once she moved on, I never looked at those letters again.
That drawer is just taunting me now. I just keep glancing towards that stupid piece of furniture. I would open it if it weren’t for my disgust towards being overwhelmed with different flavors of misery all at once. Emotions are a drag anyways. But…curiosity is beginning to get the best of me. I want to just remember maybe, just once, of what being emotional feels like instead of not caring at all. Then maybe, perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself, I can finally pick out that new nightstand at the store with those tacky gold accents.
I walk my way towards the drawer, feeling a backdrop of doom looming within my gut. I suddenly became hyper-aware of the cool breeze in my room. My arms are painted with goosebumps and standing hairs. My palms are sweating, my jaw is locked in a state of tension. I shake off this dread and wrap my fingers around the dusty and foggy neglected knob. I froze. Has this nightstand always been this blue? I take a deep breath push forwards.
I read somewhere that the more you expose yourself to your vulnerabilities and surrender to what freaks you out the most, you start to become a little bit stronger. So when I gently pulled the knob backward, I realized that the article may be right about a thing or two.
i scan the partially empty space in front of me. I saw them there. Their signature crumpled state looked just the same as when I threw them in there a year or two ago. Faded yellowish letters, laying there, taunting me with the ghost of the past. My hand slowly hovers over the antique letters.
I carefully pick up the letter and slide my fingers across the uneven opened top. I remember this letter. She wrote it for me when I went off to study overseas. She wanted to give me something to remember her by but… I should have thrown these letters away. My eyes began to read each hastily scribbled word, drowning in the poison.
“So look, I know you’re going away and all, but I wish we could have all the time in the world to just be together and exist in this wondrous universe. You know you’re my ride or die. My peanut to my butter? That sounds weird haha! Anyways, don’t forget about me when you’re in England! Because I sure won’t forget about you. You are my twin flame! Seriously! I can sense where your heartbeats!! Ain’t that cool? All jokes aside, I love you. No matter what universe we are in. No matter what timeline we find ourselves in. I will love you. Please don’t forget that. Peace out. ~ S”
Yeah. I can’t forget that. Some people are lucky enough to keep someone with harmonizing energy. I’m not one of those few. I’ve learned that the hard way. I’ll miss you even as time rages on. Even when I know you’re out there being a big hit and having the time of your life, I’ll cheer you on from the back. So though we’ve parted ways, I hope you don’t forget one thing about me, at least. It’s always gonna be you.
