Letters of Eleanor

He was different.

I never knew how unpleasant this world can be, how boring this can get but with him I never saw any moment as dull as living. And I don't want time to run out because I felt like I was in dreams. I don't want to lose him because he is surprisingly hard to forget, like the taste of salt in the sea, he was a part of me, of my being, and of my whole. He meant so much to me, especially now that the world told us that our love is wrong. I looked into his eyes and saw how regretful he was of loving me. Well, he was different. What I saw in his eyes were a reflection of myself. I was regretful.

The first time I tried to remain open for the world, people shut me down. But again he was different. I was sorry for him because he was stuck with someone like me, someone ungrateful and unapologetic. It was not my intention to call him over or to make him stay because he just wanted to. We were the world, the stars, and the galaxies. We were cells, atoms, and were microscopic. In short, we are a paradox; a contradiction but then a reality. Or so I thought.

He looked at me hoping to still make it through the night. We were like the stars, beautifully distant with each other. But as we shine, we burn. He was a supernova. He wanted to be extraordinary and momentous. Well, not that it was something wrong but we just contradict. I was a dead star, floating through space, just wanting to disappear. But he was my light and I never thought that he would burn himself so bright just for me to see the world, the whole wide universe rather.

It was unplanned. I never wanted to hurt him or create high hopes for him. I loved him more than he can ever know but that was the point. He never knew, at all. I tried to forget but I can not.

Until I just did.

With love, 
Eleanor