lemony love lemony hate

D,

I dreamt of you last night. I was a bride with my super heavy kaam wala dupatta, except it was white instead of fawn. I looked beautiful. I felt beautiful. You were there too with your mom. But you weren’t the groom and all of a sudden I wasn’t the bride. 

I know that even though I had you for a very short time, it felt that you had always been mine. It might have been the fact that you always knew what I was thinking without me physically being in front of you, or the fact that I was so mentally involved with your family that I made believe that this was perfect. And it was. You always respected me and cared for me, two qualities that I never expect in men, but you were a real “dapper young gentleman”. 

I have accepted that you and I will never be. You can blame distance, difference of family background, whatever. We both know that if it was really written, none of things would serve as an obstacle.

 I know that you have already let me go and it’s time that I do the same. 

Yours,

B

Anonymous asked: i fucking miss you and it kills me. i don't want to betray myself.

Tell them.

To my Bob.

I love you so much. Sogae thi with you. Pata nahi kab.. bathroom jany ke lye ankh khuli. Acha hua waisa bhi abhi alarm bajega toh I have to call and wake you up. You’re snoring abhi. Halkay halkay. Dreaming of me? Hehe. Halkay halkay smooth snores making tiny waves. Itna same rhythm me you snore. Lol. If I was there I’d have kissed your lips softly abhi. Tiny soft kisses on your lips. Your eyes. Your nose. Your cheeks. 

Dear G, 

Before I leave your country and move across the ocean and away from you, I would like you to know that I think I could love you for my whole life. My whole, entire, messed up life. Every time I see you it makes me weak. Sometimes (many times) I imagine what our life together would be like, and in the evenings, when we sit and talk with each other, I want to do it each and every day for the rest of my life. I know I could never run out of things to say to you. You’re so smart it’s difficult to keep up with you, and your kindness brings tears to my eyes. You’re so gentle, and your Kermit voice is something I’ve grown to love, it’s familiar now. It’s something I look forward to hearing when you explain those complicated thoughts that stir in your head. Most of all, your sense of humor and your laugh are constant surprises, flashes of joy for which I’m never quite ready. Over all this time, you grew on me with your mischievous smile, and your quick glances at me to share a joke. I wish I’d stopped myself from loving you, I feel so guilty when I imagine the future we can never have together.     

You once explained love to me. In a philosophical sense, you told me thatagape is ideal love, the purest love. At the time, I was happy enough to have your attention focused only on me. I hadn’t realized I was falling in love with you (in a distinctly not pure way).  But now that I’ve had months to think about it, I suppose you’re right: some types of love are more pure than others. I love you because of my own weakness and I can only hope that someday I can love purely, unselfishly, and finally have someone love me back. But it won’t be you.

Now that it’s time for me to leave, it kills me that when I’m gone, you’ll make that promise and be lost to me forever. I want to reach into your soul and stop you, but that wouldn’t be fair. You knew what you wanted a long time before you even met me. In the end, I’ll admit that it’s hard for me to look at you anymore. I’ve learned that some things are too bright to see. Or too painful to bear, too precious to lose before they’re even lost.  I’m scared that when I’m home, I’ll see a glimpse of someone on the street, and thinking it’s you I’ll have a brief flash of hope. But it won’t be you. It will never be you, will it?  

Always, always, always. 

C. 

Anonymous asked: This site is very overwhelming. I just might might slip in a few confessional love letters of my own but who knows? I never do this but what gives. Good day to you.

Feel free to. We’re always here to publish them.

- Mehreen.

Elastic Love

Hey you,

It’s me again. I haven’t written to you in a while, but I can only keep so much to myself. So hi. Here’s to our increasingly monosyllabic conversations, and here’s to the times you say everything’s fine. I don’t know why you’re pretending it’s all okay,  because right now it’s not just the thousands of miles between us - it’s the light-years of emotional disconnection. If love’s a stage, then we’re good actors. Please be back soon, wherever you’re hiding, the guy I fell for? 

Till then,

M

Dear M,

I have to contain myself around you.  It’s an act of will not to speak in ways I know I shouldn’t.  Every night I lay awake until I dwell on you, either in fantasy or prayer…and I know it’s bad, because I don’t pray we’re together, I pray for the best for you, whether it includes me or not. 

تیرا دل مجھسے نہیں ملتا || میرا جی رہے نہیں سکتا
غرض ایسی مصیبت ہے || کہ میں کچھ کہے نہیں سکتا
تیرے آگے میری آنکھوں سے آنسو || کیوں کہ چلتے ہے
جو تو دریا سے گڈرے ہے || تو پانی بہے نہیں سکتا

Your passion, your gentility, your intellect are astounding, and I want someone to make you so, so ineffably happy.  I won’t wait for you, but I pray for you, and though it would pain me to see you with someone else, I hope I get to see you experience that kind of joy.  I wish you peace.  I wish you happiness.  I wish you growth, and success, and life abundant.  Remember me fondly, one way or another.

N.

Dear T, 

I don’t know where to start. You and I?! It’s like we just met yesterday and I’m already making up perfect scenarios inside my head. You know how my imagination is. Wild. I have almost always a story associated to everything that we do. I know we can never be what I imagine us to be but this bond that we share, it’s really something. At the end of the day, you’re the one who’s always, always there to be the shoulder I cry on. It doesn’t really bother you that my tears are ruining your shirt, you just hold me close in a hug. You are absolute perfection. I hope you know that. You think you’re incomplete, searching for someone to complete you but it’s not that way. You are complete in your own special way. The girl you went out with. The hell she is very lucky. When you talk of her, I have this sudden urge of being what she was. I want to completely transform into her. But then I want you to love me for me. I want to be the person you think about when you are alone, the person you talk about with your friends, the person you cannot be without. That is never happening but I’m okay with it. Atleast you still are around. I can never be thankful enough to have you around. You are like a ray of the only hope in my life. Most of the time it is you, who get me through the day. I don’t know what I’ll be without you. I pray and hope and wish for you to never go away. Be my bestfriend or just a friend, I would even mind that but never, never go away. And after all you did promise me that you’ll always stay around. 

Love,

N. 

Dear Z,

We fell together. That’s how I know that what we had was real, you know? We didn’t have to try. I could say we started off platonic, but that would be a lie. The sparks flew. And everyone saw them. I was ostracized. They thought you were cheating on your girlfriend with me and, I guess in a way, you were.

And then the two of you broke up. And for three days, you were mine.

And then you got back together with her. And you didn’t tell me. That’s the part that hurts the most. If you would have told me, I could have pretended that it was all alright. We could have floated on.

But you didn’t. And we broke it. And you broke me. And I allowed this to happen.

And I miss you. I miss you so much. You made me happy, you know? And I know I made you happy, too. But I wasn’t your everything. And I guess she is. 

And maybe I still don’t know what love means, but I think that if I did, I’d be in love with you.

Love, or something like it, me. 

Dear H,

I sit here in the middle of all my books and write this post. It’s been nine days since you got in touch and I heard what happened to you, three days since I saw you and two days since I spoke to you. I sit here and look at my books, I read them over and over but all I really see is your face looking back at me.

We’ve known each other for 3 years and now? After 3 years this feeling decides to erupt? It just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t want to think or write about you. I just want you out of my head. It’s unsettling because I can’t get my head around why I like you. I don’t like the things you do and I don’t like any of your friends. But still, there is this stupid feeling for you.

Sometimes I wonder how we even became friends and why? We are too different and we HATE each other. To be honest, I don’t want it either. I don’t want you because as much as I hate you, you are such a good friend of mine. But at the same time I can’t help but think that maybe somewhere inside of you, you feel the same? It’s so wrong. You’re nothing like the person I thought I’d want. You are just my best friend. No matter how hard I try to reverse it, I can’t.

I wish I could just go back 10 days, when I didn’t even think about you anymore, when I had no idea what had happened to you, when I thought you’re just probably just too busy to be a friend to me. Death does make me realise that maybe that all that hate we had towards each other was actually love. If I had lost you.. No, I can’t even think about it…

All I can do now is wish. I wish God keeps you safe, smiling and happy. You deserve all the best for bringing sunshine into my life. I honestly wish you find someone who makes you happy and you love unimaginably. And I wish the two of you spend a happy and long life together.

Although, a small part of me still wishes that person will be me.

Hate you but love you,

A.