I promised I wouldn't write, but I had to. We parted ways four years ago, both of us deeply hurt, both of us vowing not to see each other ever again. Both of us wanting to forget both the good and the bad times, leaving the wounds to be healed by time. Maybe, by the time you're reading this letter, you've already forgotten everything and my name is alien to you. I doubt it, I know you remember me, what we had was not something one can forget so easily.
I promised I wouldn't write but I did. I wrote because even after all this time there isn't a day I don't think about you. I have a prodigious memory, you used to be surprised by the things I could remember, even the slightest detail. Sometimes I would point you at something just to amuse you. Yet, my memory is a curse disguised as a blessing. Now, everywhere I look, everywhere I go, I see you, I hear you, I remember the things we did together.
Do you remember that little restaurant I took you a couple of times? It was my favorite place, but it was always booked and we hardly ever had enough money to go. I haven't gone there since the last time I went with you, I only passed in front of it once and it made me remember everything about that night. You were wearing your orange summer dress, your hair up in a bun, some ringlets escaping from it. You were tan, your skin golden under the soft lighting. You asked for a cold vegetable soup and roasted chicken with pears. The soup you ate taking small spoonfuls, the chicken you cut in small pieces. You ate slowly, like you always did. For dessert you had chocolate pie, of course, you couldn't have anything else. Chocolate pie was always your favorite. I always asked you to let me try, but you always denied me with a smile. You could never share something like that, just as you couldn't share me.
I had to move from my flat, our flat, because you were everywhere. You were in bed, you were on the bathroom mirror, in the kitchen eating breakfast sitting on the counter. It was too much to bear. I tried to, believe me I did. I was told I would need time, but after six months I still saw you as you had been the day before you left. I had loved that flat, it had been a rare find, but after you left it became hell. After I moved out things seemed to get better. It was a fresh start. Or so I thought. However, we had been together to too many places. At first it was the obvious ones, like the teather or our little restaurant. Afterwards it was the streets where we used to wander. Now I can't walk on streets we had been together only once without remembering you. I stay at home all day long, fearing the triggers that will make me remember. But the triggers are inside me now, because my hands are the ones that held you, and my lips are the ones that kissed you. The memory of your touch burns my senses.
I promised I wouldn't write, but I did. It is only this one time, however, I'll never write you again, I promise. This is a goodbye, because it hurts too much living without you but having to remember you every day. Remembering what I once had and I will never have again. Remembering what I have lost forever. It hurts too much and I can't live like that.
It's not your fault, it was never your fault. And I hope that if you remember me it will be because of the good things. I want to ask you a last favor. Don't come to my funeral. My funeral is my own, one of the few things of mine that you don't have. Don't come, please.
I promised I wouldn't write as I promised I would never tell you I loved you ever again, but, since I have already started breaking promises, it won't hurt if I break another one. I love you. I have always done, and I could never stop loving you.
Yours forever,
Ryan
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