one of my biggest fears is fading into middle age, mediocre and useless. i am terrified of the day when i will walk through a room unnoticed. they will find suitable replacements for my skills, and i will no longer be relevant.
i worry that i passed my prime. those years with you were the best; but, as fun and memorable as they were, what if that's as good as it gets for me? and worse, what if you have chosen to disown the shared experiences that shaped me-- forfeit any association with our past, our lovely little garden of travels and sunsets and handmade birthday cards and content routines?
because even more heartbreaking than being forgotten is to be acknowledged and then dismissed.
i am writing you this love letter, x, because it is time to confront my fears and appeal to your memory for the strength to mitigate my own chaos. you were always so good at sensing my impending storms and then forging blue skies and waterless rainbows for me-- you reacted so seamlessly that i didnt know i needed your barometer and a raincoat. i lived for so many years without lightning cracks or hurricane swells-- but what if being apart from you, x, for the rest of my life, means fading into gray-washed cloudless, breezeless mundaneness?
someday all they will hear is the sound of my shoes instead of turning their heads to see the tears in my eyes at the realization that the best is hard to forget.
love,
a.
just to put your mind at ease
you don't owe me anything
you paid me well in memories
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