Life often feels like an endless chain of if and then —
What if we had never met?
What if we had never stayed connected?
What if you never helped me, and I never lied?
What if we had bonded sooner?
What if I had accepted the truth of us, being together?
I know now — taking you for granted was my biggest mistake. And even if it takes 26 years, I won’t stop trying to solve the puzzle that is us. Someday, I hope to stand before you and tell you everything — every choice, every thought, every feeling. Until my last breath, I will remember it all. But all I ask from you... is a promise.
This month used to be the happiest one of our lives. Just two years ago, we had our ride through Tamhini. I looked after you the best I could. Everything began on July 16 — the closeness, the connection. You wanted love, and I gave it. We heard each other, spoke with open hearts, loved deeply, stayed together, lived fully… even felt like we could conquer anything.
And then, a year later, it was gone. All of it.
What remained were promises, helplessness… ruins.
Not because I’m sad — but because I’m trapped in the same loop of memories, unable to escape them.
People say I need help. I listened. I went for treatment. Four days of trying, and I heard the same things you once said:
"You can’t keep doing this."
"It’s not working."
"You need to distract yourself."
So I went to a spa, hoping to feel something — anything. But I walked out without a moment of peace.
You might be thinking, “Not again…”
But it’s only when I think of you that I truly lose my words. Or find them.
I try to distance myself… yet your thoughts refuse to let go of me.
I don’t know why you became this important. I don’t know why I still want you.
But I do know this — I was wrong to expect a message, a call, a meeting, or anything from you.
I don’t know what the right path is anymore.
Should I just go with the flow?
Or keep breaking away like I’ve been trying to?
We — you and me — may no longer exist. But the memories remain.
You always thought I never kept your pictures.
Truth is, I uploaded them to Google Photos —
So I could see them every day, anytime.
I never had to ask for your photos — I already had them. Quietly, always.
Maybe this was love.
Or maybe it was just a beautiful illusion — a fluke.
Because if it had truly been love, you wouldn’t have left.
You would’ve stayed.
You would’ve cared.
You would’ve loved me, still.
Maybe you don’t want me anymore.
Or maybe you’re just too emotional to return.
Maybe you’re trying to show me that once you’re gone, you’re truly gone.
Perhaps this has all been a dream.
Maybe I’m still asleep.
If so, I hope I wake up — before it gets worse.
You always wanted me to put myself first.
Now, ironically, you are the only one on that list — first, last, everything.
Tears come, but I hide them. I carry them in silence.
I wish I had chosen differently —
Taken that one chance, played that one role…
Maybe I could’ve saved it all.
I will remember —
Even if you come back to me after 30 or 40 years,
I will still be here, ready to tell you everything.
But deep down, I’m afraid:
Will you come back?
Will you remember me?
Will you even recognize who I am?
I don’t want to be forgotten.
I want to live — in your memory, in your soul.
If I could, I’d bargain with death itself —
To have you by my side,
In this life, or the next,
In any universe, any galaxy, any time.
So, just one last thing…
Can I ask you for a promise?
If there is a next life — will you choose us?
