I thought I should write about you.
It has always been my thing to scribble down my ideas. Not because they are beautiful or any better, but I think they are worth writing for. And so once, it came to my mind to write about you. It's silly, I know. Why would I write about someone I am not even sure about? But still, among the ideas that I have in my mind, you're still the best and the crankiest of all. And it's so sad that you really are just an idea. That everything that I would write about (if) is just my idea of you. My idea of what I want you to become to me. Only from my idea, mine, and mine alone.
It's not easy not to write about you. Neither is it easy to do so. You're that person who encouraged me to write my story. I was so gullible that I really am doing it. Sadly enough, I want you to be a part of it. But, you have left the pages a long time ago. And I can't cheat. I can't write about you anymore. I can't write about things that are not possible.
Still, I can't stop writing. Two people have told me not to ever stop. Two special persons. Maybe, I'll try writing about them. I'll try to write about the others. I'll try to write about any other thing except you. Except the idea of you.
No, I can't go back to the past. I can only reminisce. To remember the old days. The stories that I can't write about. Stories that include only you. But I'll write about them. Some time in the future. Someday, when they don't affect me anymore. Soon, when I have totally moved on.