1. I would give everything just to hold your hand one last time, sweaty and pants stained by the grass and the ground, slumped against sacks of dirt, tired and blindfolded, possibly looking like the most idiotic pair.
2. Hypothetically, I would never ever let go.
3. Hypothetically, things would turn out extremely different than they did.
4. Hypothetically, something has to happen to someone, somehow.
5. Hypothetically, I would give everything just to hold your hand one last time, whatever that last time was, whenever it was.
6. We go back to step 1.
7. No matter how many hypothetical moments with you I will make up in my mind, there will always be that final hypothetical moment, that final hypothetical moment that I will want to relive.
8. Like the time I met you.
9. Or the time you held my hand.
10. Or the time we talked about how you weren’t not allowed to wear sleeveless tops to Chem lab.
11. Or the last time I ever talked to you.
12. The thing is, no matter how many hypothetical moments I create, there is already a definite final moment. So the only thing I can do, now, is just expand the space between that definite initial moment, and that definite final moment, and find more and more moments I have had with you, or even the ones I didn’t have, no matter how previously insignificant.
13. Those are all I have left of you.
14. Hypothetically, I would never ever let go.

I wrote a letter today with the intention of giving it so that finally I may say the things I have meant to say for two or three (or more than I would care to admit, really) months. Not that these words would have any bearing whatsoever on anything.

I wrote a letter today with the intention of tearing it into a million unintelligible pieces so that perhaps—I am not quite sure—I am able to accept everything, to forgive, to forgive everyone, most of all myself. Like I have tried to do with every letter prior.

There has been a yellow paper airplane (it’s called Boomerang plane, it’s supposed to come back when thrown but it has never done that for me) sitting in my bag for hours now and I don’t know what to do with it, and I don’t know how to deal with it, as if everything relies on the fate of this certain yellow paper plane.

Nothing ever relies on a paper plane, much like nothing anymore relies on what I feel (que terrible); but I still wonder what would have happened if I had given it. And if anything would have changed. And if, in fact, one small thing relied on this paper plane.

There has been a yellow paper airplane sitting in my bag for hours now and for my sake I will write and rewrite everything until I grow tired of every single sadness and everything I have ever felt.

Until I grow weary of every word I have written.

Surprise me with the weight of your head on my shoulder, with your nose buried in my sleeve, with the dying strains of a song that once reminded you of myself you let slip from a crack between your dry lips, with a smile I’d never dared look at in weeks, and then walk away to leave me wondering, had I not been here before? Had I not been the one to walk away and leave you staring at the marble floor?

На Закате (for you who left; for you who were left alone; for you who never left; for you who are forgetting; for you who won’t forget; for you who believed; for you who forgave; for you, mon chéri.)

1. Angel - Jimi Hendrix
2. Don’t Let Me Down - The Beatles
3. Balisong - Rivermaya
4. Lover, You Should Have Come Over (Live in Chicago) - Jeff Buckley
5. American Mary - The National
6. Summer ‘68 - Pink Floyd
7. Talamak (Daytrotter session) - Toro Y Moi
8. The Final Cut - Pink Floyd
9. Wicked Little Town (Tommy Gnosis version) - Stephen Trask
10. Rain Song - Led Zeppelin

Download here.

I can’t speak any more.

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