Dear Abhopus,
Do letters always have to begin with a “Hey, How are you” ? Because right now I really can’t be bothered with pleasantries. I know this letter will find you well, in any case.
I have so much to say to you and I don’t know where to begin. When I think of you, images of us kissing, me breathing down your neck, you curling up to me, cloud my head. I don’t like these feelings I have for you. Really strong feelings of desire and affection, in my gut.
Sometimes, I wish for you to be a figment of my imagination. Because fantasies are nice only because they are not real. Because wanting a fictitious character is much easier than wanting a real one.
I never liked fantasy fiction you know. While my friends at school and college would eagerly read The Harry Potter series, The Lord of the Rings series or The Eragon series, I always preferred fiction which was relatable. A few years ago, I used to think that this was because I lack imagination. But now I think when it comes to concepts like love, I want it to be real. I want it to be real so bad, that I can’t bear the thought of love being a fantasy.
Now, I know you don’t like it when I get intense. When people throw something intense at you, it is cute to see you search for words, like a confused dog, chasing its tail, running around in circles. Oops. You want to hit me now, don’t you?
Alright, let me get to the point now. I want you. What’s worse is I want you to want me. But, you aren’t here to stay and that re-affirms that you’re real. Space away from me and be real, because this time I am taking a decision and I want you to be history. Maybe, I could turn you into a work of fiction?
