Dear Father

Dear Father,

Or should I call you that?

Photo Credit: Tumblr


Of someone I dreamed would be.

But this letter isn’t a poem to you.





They are earned, but you didn’t earn them.









You’d never be enough.

One day, my love.

I met you on a ferris wheel.

Well, that was when I really met you, your soft hands and nervous laughter, nervous but happy.

remember when we first started talking, during awkward lunch hours, and way too late at night over text. I remember that time when you walked me back to the bus and everyone inside was staring at us, but our friends approved. They knew just how perfect we would be for each other.


I remember that first kiss, so sweet and unsure, but so convinced it was right. I remember realizing how madly I was falling in love with you, when I had to leave you for the summer.

We have such a great history. I mean, you sent me flowers to Germany. You gave me an engraved necklace confessing your love. We’re going to go to Paris together.

So I’m asking. Why do we have to end like this?

Don’t get me wrong, I know this is the best decision for us to make. But why? Why is this the best we can possibly do? The longest we can possibly go?

I don’t understand the universe. Once it brought two soulmates together, why would it break them apart so soon? Why would it give us this choice to make, so bitter and sour and burning hot?

It’s not fair. You know that, I know that. And obsequiously, we go along with it.

I see couples that get so much more time together, that get to go out for dinner on a Tuesday night, or go watch a movie after school, or walk their dogs together at sunset, and I am so jealous. It’s that red, yellow, glowing jealousy that you can’t turn off. I hate it. I want to be happy with what we are given. But there will always be this huge part of me that wishes for us to have that life together. I know we deserve it.

One day, my love, one day.