My Dearest
It has been countless days since my pen last danced for you, and the world seemed to have turned into a long, restless ocean without end. I am no longer lost in the sunken depths of Atlantis; the icy fear and shadowed terror of those days have melted away under the golden warmth of sunlight. I do not want this summer to end. Oh, how I wish I could preserve the taste of these fleeting moments like a magical scoop of ice cream in the freezer; so they would never melt, never dissolve into mere memories.
I had almost forgotten what it feels like to be truly loved, and even more..to have that love shown, boldly and without restraint. But someone has recently walked into my life who carries a different kind of love, a love that speaks in gestures, in fearless kisses, in honesty. She doesn't care for the whispers of the world or the judgments that might linger. She holds my hands with unwavering certainty, like a compass guiding me toward the sun, and in the dark skies of these days, she shines like the North Star, towering above all the storms and joys alike. With her, even the hardest paths of life suddenly feel like music, like a dance. Her laughter is the most poetic symphony ever composed, and her gaze brushes against my soul with the gentlest caress. The way she speaks..so unguarded, so fearless..makes me want to listen for hours, as if time itself should pause to honor her voice.
Yet there is something I must tell you, though I remain uncertain where another somebody truly stands in my life. Perhaps I will never know. A friend once told me, “If someone truly loves you, you will feel it. And if nothing happens, let go.” I promise to wait, to be patient. But if by the end of this week nothing unfolds, I may do something both foolish and courageous—and you, of course, will know every single detail. Others may call it reckless, but I will no longer hide my heart. Whether he loves me or not, it is the truth of what I feel, blazing and undeniable, even if it is a mistake. And as for university, I am still uncertain. I have a rough vision, though it may not align perfectly with my dreams. Perhaps that is the secret of life—it never concludes like a classic film, neither purely happy nor tragically doomed. Life simply flows, suspended somewhere in between.
I miss you. I miss you like the sun misses the horizon at dusk, like the ocean misses the moonlight dancing on its waves. And I always will
