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Wondering, around the world, with a million perspective views, in search of one love is always a dreaded feeling. Rushing through each human on account of finding one true love is a painful process.
We are all a part of this race, the race in search of a connection, an experience of love. Some make it to the end, while others keep changing tracks.
Love is a feeling of holding on. A feeling of not letting go. Love is all about meeting that one person with whom you feel you can race to the end.
In the world full of billions, heart-broken people being in millions, faking love is the new game that we see. But, what if this faking love finds that one true love in each stranger's face?
"Living with hope, you will find me, I rest my desire to be found."- A Mixed Nerve
This is an open letter by a person who writes how his love was betrayed.
" I am writing this to you with the urge of having you every now and then, while remembering old days, of memories where we once dwelled. This is not a hurtful letter for you to read, but it is a letter where I confide what I feel.
It is okay that you left with no sound of truth, but a facade of lies. Did you feel any better, the way you ran over feelings without giving a signal of betrayal?
I hope you did feel, I hope you understood, how wrong it is to be wronged by the person you love.
Those instances of past glorious days are flashing back. A thousand splendid moments are just whining about you. What good is it, if those have no more, a part of you?
I have been holding on to this quarter of emotion that flows down the cheek. I wish you knew, how I feel about you in each breath that I take.
There isn't a day where the thunders in my mind roar about the pain that brews inside. I had lost my world to you, giving you a piece of me which you carry within.
There are a zillion things I want to tell you, but I know it won't affect you.
So, remember this,
We met on the road to the metro and we will meet someday. If I am not there in person, you will see me in each stranger's face.
The things that we did, the paths we travelled have now lost their charm; you won't find me travelling through those roads again.
Each time you walk through those streets, you will remember, how beautiful a lie you had spread. The lie that made me fall, the lie that made me crumble.
I hope to see you someday with another man where you see him as me and I see you as a stranger.
Those roads that have split will have different humans, some walking, some passing, some riding, and some experiencing. But, none will have the piece of you and me, the way we had.
I have had a past, a past with you where only you had stayed but that won't happen any further from today.
This letter you are holding is the last gift from me, revealing what I feel now and what I wish upon thee.
When you feel broken, hold it close to you and read through the lines, feel how brutal it was for me, when you left me behind.
I have no regrets from now on and I wish to see you someday finding me in every stranger's face."
Love has been verbally expressed, and even physical methods have been well fed by and to people. But do we understand what love is? Do we do justice to the word and to the world in it?
I leave this upon you to decide whether the letter made you feel the need to be true to your partner.
"Thoughts may pass by, memories may die, but I hope you remember me, everytime you find me in each passerby." - A Mixed Nerve
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