Things have changed ever since I met you. Every time I reminisce about you, it is like I go deep into a blackhole never to return. I don’t know why I feel like I am acquainted with every strand of your dark hair, but still, I get lost in it’s labyrinth. Did you ever witness my bloodshot eyes, my unkempt hair, my honest lies, and the hopeful despair? Never will you know how much I have loved every moment that I have spent with you. Maybe, you will never know what I am, what my love is. Maybe, you’ll never know who I am. Maybe, we’ll meet somewhere, in a distant place; maybe some years from now, you’ll recognize me, my feelings, or maybe, we’ll just look at each other, stay dead silent, and you’ll hand the candyfloss to your son, and I’ll give away my marshmallow to my daughter. Maybe, I’ll think of now. Maybe, you’ll think of never. Maybe, you’ll be celebrating your 20th marriage anniversary with the man. The lucky man. And yes, I swear, I’ll be sad. But at least you’ll be happy, and you’ll smile, and that will raise the corners of my lips. Maybe, your son will fall for my daughter, and I will obviously let them be together, as I know what a rejection means, how it feels. Yeah, I know, you never rejected me. But never mind. Maybe, we’ll never meet, let alone that distant place, that candyfloss, that marshmallow. Maybe, I’ll die of some ailment soon and maybe, you will just hear about my death from a friend, and maybe you’ll ask your husband if you can come for my funeral. Or maybe, you’ll die sooner. And I will go to the church, to cry silently and ask God, why. I address you as ‘no one’, because you are a ‘no one’ in my life. The drumbeats, the strings, and the banjo that your sister had gifted me, will never sound the same. Maybe, I will never go to CCD again, to drink the coffee I had drank with you on our third meeting. Maybe, nights are never going to be the same like they are now. Maybe, the clock will strike 2, and I will be asleep, not talking to the ceiling and the walls. I will never think of you and waste a little bit of my time, I promise. Oh, and yes, for one last time, it feels great to be with you. Maybe, you’ll never know, but I have decided that never for a second time will I utter that. And I mean every curve, every curl, and every stroke of this letter.