You&rsquo;ve been gone for quite some time now.
The closest, most recent memory I have of you was the time when we were on the brink of leaving this world &ldquo;too early.&rdquo; The word is in quotation marks because it was what they said, but not really what we believed. After all, time is only a tangible representation of the concept of readiness. At that time, we were more than ready to leave.
That random lazy afternoon was the last time I saw you. It seemed like while we both planned to go, it was only you who went through with it. It was only you who left.
Memories of whatever happened before that incident have become hazy. Maybe it became that way because it was so, so long ago. I have nothing to blame but the years that passed by or the involuntary disassociation that came with you leaving.
As I write this letter, the realization that I will never fully have you back is finally dawning on me like sunrise during the winter solstice. It&rsquo;s a painstakingly slow realization, but at the very least, it&rsquo;s here.
I don&rsquo;t think I want you back, anyway.
I&rsquo;ve already embraced the fact that my youth is no longer present, no longer mine. But then again, there&rsquo;s something else I look forward to. Something that I rushed too much. Something that I thought I was ready for.
I look forward to growing old and enjoying the years in which I feel at peace.