Unfinished

I was writing this for you when you accused me for lying, again. Only this time I wasn’t.

Dearest,
I hate what has become of us. Constantly doubting,  constantly fighting to be heard. We have built a wall around us and we are constantly trying to look over the walls, rattling the chains on the gates and screaming to be heard.
But we weren’t always like this.
You and I, we had a world of our own – a cocoon where our walls were down,  gates open, blinds of our windows spread wide open for the light to shine through.
But somewhere down the line, we got so busy we forgot to open up, and let down our walls. Instead of that blinding light, we started getting just a friction of it. And we got used to it. Got comfortable in the darkness. And now we are both fighting for the last few rays of light.
I wish everything could just go back to what it was December before last.
I can honestly say, I’ve never been more content before. I couldn’t keep my fingers from reaching out for yours. We had such little of what we have now, but we were happy. Happy with the little moments we had, the long calls in the night,  the giggles and the snuggles. Remember that time we danced across that stinky hall, just because?
I don’t know what to say.
We have changed. We have grown. But perhaps not together.
I am sorry for all the times I’ve caused you pain. For all the times I wipes off your smile and replaced it with a frown. For all the times I’ve made you loose your patience……

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