Letter by Nabeela Al Afifi

Posted on March 13, 2012 by


Dear perished love,


I’ve been up for days, trying to write a few feelings down. Pen and paper, that were once my closest friends are now my mortal enemies. I watch the ink slide down the empty canvas as I try to write this confession down. That useless big blob of charcoal black haunts the living light out of my  annihilated soul.  It’s been a year. 365 days. 12 months. 52 weeks.  It’s been a whole damn year since you’ve left this torturous.  I hate you with every fiber or my body, every atom it occupies. I hate you for your sudden departure and most importantly for your unspoken goodbyes. Is it okay to say I hate God too? But, a wave of guilt washes over me as I utter these words. So, I refrain from thinking them let alone enunciating them. But deep down, under all of that useless cold blood that runs through my veins, I admit it, I hate everything that had to do with your unforeseen fleeting. I even hate the inanimate bed you laid on. I am filled with fury that cannot be controlled. I wake up every morning and walk clumsily to the mirror and I look at the mess. A recollection of thoughts dawned over me as flashbacks of your memory paralyze me. I remember the way your lips curved into the tiniest of smiles as I walked into the room or the way your eyes shimmered under the covers. I remember the way our hands clasped perfectly together or the way your body fit entirely against mine. Like, at that very moment, the air you breathed was the air I breathed and the atoms you occupied, occupied mine as well.  I remember remembering how my stomach flipped a thousand flips as I saw a glimpse of that smile or the way I can feel your heartbeat sync completely with mine. You were one of a kind and you still are, like winter’s first snow flake and the arbitrary dispersion of stars on a lightless night.


I have no idea where you are right now. You might be decomposing right under my feet or sitting on the 7th cloud sipping on some ginger tea.  Nonetheless, I hope God taps you on the back and hands you this letter.  A letter, of 600 useless words, three of which I want you to grasp with all your dead might, I want you to grasp the fact that I have loved you then, I will love you now and I will most defiantly love you forever more. How clichéd of me, coming from the girl who never believed loved existed in that sense. Coming from the girl who rolled her eyes at every sappy, stupid, unrealistic love scene. Coming from the girl who never found love in actually loving a person. No, I don’t mean the casual I-love-yous kind of love. It’s the I-love-you-with-every-fiber-of-my-body type of love. It’s the I-cant-help-my-stomach-from-lurching-after-365-days type of love. I can officially say, that at this very moment, this pen has taken over my always secreted thoughts and laid every notion on this canvas. Everything is probably garbled together, ranging from infuriating hatred to undying love. But, I am no longer controlling my thoughts. It is the pen. It’s the pen that is telling you everything I refrained from uttering in the past few 365 days. The what seem to be permanent streaks of tears will haunt me for the rest of the day, till the sun dances back down and I begin to cry waterfalls of 52 weeks of unspoken replies.

Posted in: Letter