To The One That I Almost Had

I closed my eyes and breathe in, heavy as fuck, and remembered every piece of you that I could possibly grasp from the vast oblivion that we had ended into. I've missed you. I actually thought that I will not feel anything like this because we almost felt like forever. Almost.

You were terrified of the idea of the real us, while I, on the other hand, took you for granted and that's the reason we never had the chance to finish our castle of dreams and hope or run as fast as we could to the future we promised to be together into.

We almost made it. We're almost unstoppable, unbreakable. Until everything ended before anything could ever have started. Now, I could understand if you'd say it's my fault, heck, I slipped out so fast from us anyway - abrupt, whilst you, slipped off slowly - like a mud pool pulling everything we once had down into nothingness.

But god, I missed you. After two whole years I can't believe our memories could fuel up a confession like this nor could I believe I am telling you all these, but I do miss you. I miss every idea we've ever had, our laughter out of the blue, pissing neighbors off after a night-out, climbing up the fence after curfew, cold, midnight walks and stories, star-gazing in the middle of the street, our sneak outs and dinner takeouts - I miss them all. My memories of the past wouldn't have been as beautiful as it is if it wasn't for you.

And before we tore everything apart you made me promise you that I'll be happy. The fuck can I be? I lost everything I like to have. Everything.
You, us.
So if you ever come across this letter, yes, it is you. I just like to let you know, we clicked once and if it will happen again, I will do everything right.