You know that moment when you wake up to routine? Not too sad to do stuff passionately, not too happy to be greeted by sunshine. You know how it feels when you want to be angry, to whirlwind in emotions, but everything just annoyingly works as usual?

That was me these past weeks—a walking zombie, wearing “adulting” as a disguise. So I thought maybe I can resort to writing… and just sort of begin by taking us back.

Back to the heart of this foreign city, where the skyline cradles dreams against the backdrop of possibility, where we matched, met, and thought, “What are the odds?”

Back to when we were still in the talking phase, when we locked eyes and thought, “Where have you been?” where it didn’t matter if we sat in silence or talked all day and night.

Back to where we first introduced our friends to each other, when I figured how much my friends love you (truly not a big deal but 100% make me feel at ease— I think they love you more than they love me though), or where we celebrated your birthday, or when we cook together albeit with my grumpiness, or when we had those wholesome dinner dates, talked past midnight because we had to do today’s Wordle and keeping our streak. Do you remember our first fight? When we celebrated it instead because weren't we just cherishing every bit and every second of us?

Sometimes these past weeks, when I just run out of distractions, I thought maybe I was put there to know you—to see the world as you do, through your eyes and your heart, and to see everything and everyone through you for the moment.

Maybe I was fated to see life through multiple lenses as I grow older, and in one of those permutations, I must do it through you, both in the present and retrospectively so that I could see it in a soul that was mine and yours.

You knew (hell everyone knew) you were everything I had longed for. I remember sometimes you’ll talk back to me that what you do was just loving me when I affirm you. The fact was, you did not always see what I see in you and how much you shone a light so radiant I could look at you all day in awe, thinking— how can I be this lucky?

Sometimes, during my breaks, my mind wanders to when we were in New York and you asked if I could see a future with us. Damn you, I wanted to say a thousand yes. I have never feel so brave and ready for the future before I met you and when you spoke of forever, for a fleeting moment, I believed in it too.

Instead, I look at you with tears and already I saw my past.

One of these days, I tried to cheer myself, thinking that my biggest gratitude has never been the times when I’ve rationalized my way out of us, but the instance where I’d talked myself into believing this was worth being in.

At times, it works.

But most of the times, it’s not enough.

For now, I will try to find solace in the knowledge that we loved fiercely, even briefly. I know for sure what we had is real but we both knew that staying together would mean a lifetime of compromises, of questioning our identities to fit into a mold that was never meant for me. If I stay here, there will only ever be this. And this is steady, this is comfortable, this is nice, but this will never be enough.

Thank you for letting me go.