Dear Us,

It's been 5 years since I first met you, and I still remember that moment like it was yesterday. The way I was instantly pulled into your orbit; I'd never felt anything like that before, until you sat down at our table. The way you only spoke to me, and me feeling like the world had quieted just so it could make space for the two of us. And a month later you kissed me while you were waiting for your taxi back home. I remember smiling from ear to ear, looking at you and telling you "Finally!", and I really did feel like I was finally complete with someone.
What we had afterwards was magical, and it was just for the two of us. You kissed me a lot, and you did it in a way that made the world stop spinning. You never failed to smile at me, and I was already blushing and smiling back at you.
I regret not telling you the full extent of my feelings. It was obvious we were navigating things as though they were temporary but they weren't. You tried telling me how you feel, but the kiss afterwards spoke more than we could ever verbalize. I let you go when you had to go because I was too scared that if I told you how I truly, really felt about you, you'd run away. But I was stupid...
We met again after some time. I'll never forget the moment you told me you'd found someone. I played it cool. What we had was temporary, right? But to me, it was a time where I was the happiest and truest with someone. I can't call it love. Love is just an endless cycle of compromising for the sake of avoiding a fight. Love is a chore. What I feel for you is unconditional. I'd do anything for you, because you're the apple of my eye. There's no one else I'd give my time and energy to but to you. I thought that you telling me you'd found someone would help me move on, but what it did was make things worse. And yet, I stayed quiet. No one knows how deeply I actually feel for you.
Now, I'm engaged to someone who I love. I always compromise. It feels like a chore. My family viewed the engagement as something that's supposed to happen. The natural order of things. My mom wasn't happy - she just laughed and said, "We were expecting it. You two live together." My dad made it look like he was happy for me, but he's always done that to make my mother's indifference feel like well-meaning attention. I'm a grown woman now, who's going to get married, have kids, try not to get angry with her spouse when they're lazy. That's how a marriage works, right? Compromising and hiding your distaste until it begins to fester on the outside.
At this point, we hadn't had seen each in almost two years. The last time we met was last year in October. It was sudden. Very sudden. And it stopped me dead in my tracks, and the impact of your presence reminded me of just how deeply I still feel for you. The world stopped again, and I hugged you tenderly. To the people I was with, it looked like a friendly reunion. To me, it was a reunion with the only person who still makes me feel like my truest and happiest self. You wanted to invite me over to your place, said you'd like to catch you. But you're still with the person you told me about. You live with them. How can I come over when they would be there, too? And yet, you told me that whenever you pass by my old place, you still remember what we had. You talked about it for a long time, and I'd almost suggested we took it somewhere else just so we can rekindle what we still have between us. I told the friend I was with then that I'm getting tired and that we should go home. The truth is I was beginning to redirect my entire attention to you. No one matter around me, but you. Before we left, I hugged you tenderly again, and you wanted to talk and talk some more. If I had the opportunity, I would've stayed as long as you wanted to. My time is all yours.
Me and my friend left, and me and you haven't spoken to each other since.
I remembered the lass kiss we had and how soft it felt on my lips. And then I remembered the one you gave me on Christmas Eve almost 5 years ago. That one was the softest kiss I'd ever received from anyone. It lingered on my lips.
I replay all of those moments, over and over again, with the hopes that I might bring you back or something. Might bring us back. I miss you to the point where it hurts. I miss you to the point where I cry and pretend that I'm just having an episode. Depression, that's the excuse. Anxiety. But it's yearning. I'll wait as long as you want me to.
I hope we meet again soon, but until then I'll keep us safe in my heart.