To the undoubtedly concerned,

Hey- I mean…hi…there

…Been awhile, huh?

Guess that’s my fault, though. With me being me, you know?

…Anyway, I know it’s a little late for this, but I love you…

Damn, that was cheesy. Um…uh…I mean, it’s true, kind of, but-

Nevermind, you probably don’t want to hear that anyway. It doesn’t mean anything anymore. Or at least, not to you.

But I want it to. Oh god, I would drop out of the sky on angel wings with a ‘DUNCE’ cap on my head and an armful of as many Pumpkin Chocolate Chip cookies as we could inhale in an hour if it meant you’d speak to me again. Or look my way, or even beat me over the head with our shared copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban.

(Which I never ended up finishing by the way, sorry. Might as well tell you the truth now, right…)

Yeah, I’d do anything…I’d say that I would give you the universe, but you can’t give someone something if it’s already a part of them. You hold the Earth in your palms, your feet float on the sparkling remnants of burnt-out suns, nebulas dance in between the curls in your hair, and the Milky Way pours out of your mouth with every small utterance. Saturn’s rings hang where your ears should be. Neptune’s diamonds rain down as you saunter on your way. Jupiter’s century-long hurricane blows from your fingertips as you move the world out of your way. I’m pretty sure aliens hang out on the asteroid belt that wraps itself around your mind. That would explain a lot of your ridiculous thoughts, actually.

With that said, I still can’t fathom how you seemed to spot me amongst the meager public, the floating rubble. I was a rogue planet, collateral damage to your infinite solar systems. But you found me (with your infrared vision, no doubt) and you gave me a sun.

Reluctant as I was to crack my perfected shell, you blatantly sledgehammered it ‘til it broke into pieces (which I didn’t appreciate much at the time. It took a damn long time to strengthen those walls, thank you!).

You guided me out into the middle of nowhere space, where we could cause as much chaos as we wanted without interruption. Our own Supercluster. You transformed me from an insignificant speck of dust to a slightly more interesting insignificant speck of dust! You fought your way through the suffocating fog that couldn’t have cared less, and I was at your right hand. You always found some kind of trouble to get yourself into, but we always walked out of it together. You burnt a forever-crackling bonfire just so I could warm my toes, and I thought it would never extinguish. I thought we would travel the cosmos as far as we could go, and we would question everything until the hysteria of uncertainty either drove us mad or put us higher than the divine beliefs of any human.

Too bad I can’t predict the future.

I guess I knew all along how cracked I truly was, but maybe I wanted to pretend, at least for a little while longer, that my core was still whole. I wanted to hang onto your hand as the earth opened up under me, but I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I couldn’t. You were too good for that, you meant too much.

I’m always wondering why I let you get close in the first place. I knew that black hole was waiting for me somewhere, waiting for me to look down and try to jump into a fading light, and I didn’t want anything sucked in with me, so why? Maybe my brain had one last stand, one last attempt at catching a shooting star that would fly me as far away as I wanted to go. Maybe I wanted a moment of delusion to blind me with brilliance so I could forget the forging cavern around me, for just a little while.   

But I wasn’t blind to the black, or deaf to the howling wind coming from inside. I let it into the house, let it take off its coat and take a seat, listened to it ramble for god knows how long…

Then I jumped.

But I don’t need to remind you. You were there, after all. You knew, and you tried, but I never stopped.

It’s way past too late to give you this. I’ve failed you enough, I’ve stabbed you in every vulnerable muscle and left you to bleed out the stars we collected together. If I could take back everything I’ve ever done to you, I would do it faster than you could say, “You suck!”

But I don’t regret a second of our space-time. In my hands I hold a pebble from every asteroid we ever crushed, a spark of light we took from every sun, a gas cloud from every planet we ever visited. I don’t want to forget, but I know you can’t forgive, and that’s okay. You deserve to be angry, irate even. So cry an ocean, crush moons together, trap constellations in endless black holes, or drag planets in with your gravitational pull and burn them crisp.

I just want you to know that I tried. I really did, so hard for so long. I wanted what we had for an eternity, I wanted to see the supernovas you would cause, I wanted to know what it felt like to be too old and wrinkled to even walk anymore (we would finally have a legitimate reason to not go outside!). I wanted be a part of your universe for the rest of my life. But we can’t all get what we want, can we?

Just know that I hate myself for this too, okay? I can’t stand what I’ve probably done to you, but it was time for me to go. I don’t know if I’ll see you again, but if we do meet, feel free to punch me in the face. Just try to avoid my nose if you can, please?

I love you (but it’s still cheesy).

Sincerely,

Well…you already know.