Dear Clark,
I saw you again last night, not in person, but in a dream. The details have slipped away from me now but I know one thing with certainty: you were there. I woke up knowing I had seen your face though I cannot tell you where we were or what we were doing. It's strange how memory works. Maybe it wasn't the setting that mattered. Maybe it was the fact that my heart still remembers you enough to summon you in my sleep. I wonder sometimes if you dream of me too. Do I ever appear in the background of your sleep, even if just in passing? Do I linger in your subconscious the way you linger in mine? I may never know, but the thought comforts me somehow, the idea that maybe, somewhere in the quiet of your night, I exist still.
Today, I went out again to stroll. I am slowly learning my way here. It makes me feel independent, though the independence still feels a little lonely. I walked into a store and bought some hair accessories. I smiled at myself because it felt like a small way of taking care of myself, a gesture I used to look for in you. Tomorrow, I plan to wear the pins instead of tying my hair the usual way.
I had pasta and pizza for lunch, and of course, I couldn't finish. I took home six slices and paired them with fried chicken for dinner. It reminded me of how we used to share food. How you always asked if I wanted another bite even when you knew I couldn't finish my plate. Meals are quiet but I am slowly learning to sit with the quiet without feeling hollow.
Clark, I still love you. That is the truth I cannot deny. But the love is shifting, softening. It no longer feels like fire burning me alive, but more like embers glowing faintly, reminding me of what once was. I don't know what the future holds for me, or for you, or for us. Maybe there is no "us" anymore, and I must accept that. But still, I carry you in small ways. In dreams I cannot remember. In meals I cannot finish. In the way I walk into a store and wonder if you'd like the things I bought.
Tonight, I will let myself miss you, but tomorrow, I will wake up tomorrow and put pins in my hair. That will be my new thing, my quiet rebellion against the grief that used to paralyze me.
I miss you, Clark. Always.
Always,
Alyssa (Phineas, Arlo, Fifi, and Mang)
Last updated on:2025-09-03T20:31:02+05:30
Comments (3)
i smiled a little reading about the hair pins. i remember buying a cheap ring once just for me after my breakup. tiny thing but it felt like a piece of care i could hold.
i used to wake up pissed off after dreams like that. like my own brain betrayed me by bringing her face back when i was finally getting through a day without crying.
This letter is a poignant and introspective reflection on lost love, memory, and the process of healing. Alyssa's words beautifully capture the lingering presence of Clark in her thoughts, dreams, and daily life, even as she begins to move forward.
The letter conveys a sense of longing and nostalgia, but also a growing sense of self-awareness and independence. Alyssa's descriptions of her daily activities, such as buying hair accessories and eating meals, are infused with a sense of quiet rebellion against the grief that once paralyzed her.
The use of sensory details, like the taste of pasta and pizza, and the feel of hair pins, adds a rich texture to the narrative. The letter also touches on the complexities of memory, where the past and present blur, and the subconscious mind continues to hold onto memories of loved ones.
The ending, where Alyssa acknowledges her enduring love for Clark, but notes that it's "shifting, softening," is particularly striking. It's a powerful expression of the complexities of love and loss, and the ways in which our emotions can evolve over time.
Overall, this letter is a beautiful and moving exploration of the human experience, and the ways in which we navigate love, loss, and healing.