Dear Half Boyfriend,
I look into your eyes and feel indulgent in the mysteries they evoke, yet I remain clueless, if you would give me the chance to. My nights remain incomplete without a notification reading “Good Night”, as I secretly await your hug that makes everything alright.
I know your friends, you know mine. We chill together as we wine and dine. Yet, I can’t claim you to be mine. Ambition, future, parents, or desires? Which of these will justify the fact that we love each other, yet hide it all under a menacing layer of ambiguity, simply because we fear commitment.
Sometimes I fail to fathom why we are still together, if all we wanted is to be as independent as the other? All those days, you held my hand and comforted me as I cried about my darkest times, I wish you were here now, as I weep upon the very sanctity of your existence in my life.
We decided to keep it uncomplicated. Fearing the veil of complications, we agreed on not making things awkward. But, this is certainly nothing better. My heart springs up at the very sound of your call and still the sword of uncertainty dwindles atop. Every time you and I get lost in exploring each other’s finest depths, I am lost in wonder of what forever may behold for ‘us’. The next moment though, I am left with nothing, other than, “Oh, don’t get too serious, this will be fine”.
I need you to know this is not easy. To be in your arms regardless of who you meet. An annoying sense of jealousy coupled with the angst of insecurity, fills my mind as I battle thoughts of you meandering into other interests. After all, you aren’t completely mine.
What bothers me most is your occasional complacency, when I ask you where we are off to. There have been times when your anger has even made me doubt my authority, doubt the very existence of me in your life. Amidst all those fights, I realise what’s it like to be a half. It gives you the innate authority to back off anytime and question who we were, regardless of the depths we shared. And the very fear of facing that day leaves me shattered every day.
As I seek refuge in my diary, I know what to call each entry, you have left me ‘untitled’ in life. Love, they say, was meant to entitle. All we do today is act enlightened boasting to claim the other is overthinking. Earlier, they called it the better halves. I wonder if we are better or worse, than the ones who make promises for a lifetime.
It’s funny how everyone sees us together as if they know we were meant to be. Quizzing me about our status, they ask me if I were your girlfriend and my heart pounds to say ‘yes’ with all pride. Yet, my mind is conjectured by reality. With a coy smile laced with all sorts of fakes, I call it flack and use a compensatory, “We are just best friends”.
But are we that? Are we just best friends? Friends-with-benefits is not what I chose to call you. What we share is way more sacred, but lost in thought, when I choose to surrender, this willing heart is undeterred and unshaken. Luck and fate constantly motivated by numerous poems on my feed, I save it all with the hope that someday sunshine shall beckon upon us and you shall be by my side.
Someday my words shall breathe music and someday, this letter shall mean a legend in our story of love. In the very next moment, teardrops twine my stressed fingers as I fear an explosion from the cloud of maybe’s, for maybe not is what we are meant to be.
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