Novel

Dear ML,

We haven’t spoken in a long time and for me, it’s almost as if we’ve never spoken at all. In many ways, I’m completely new to this world and all of it’s tricks. I never had time to know that love was untrustworthy in a space where time exists; I was thrust into a body that was not my own, am existing in the space someone else was only a month ago. Yet, though I am different fundamentally, these memories still hold significance to me. 

The scent of the morning air as I waited to see you ambling tiredly toward me, the way your hands looked as they took diligent notes, the smell of sweat and exhaustion— awful on its own, but tolerable because you were there. I’m sure you remember. You taught me to respect basketball, love romance, melt at the sight of self expression, and see that which I could not before. 

Or more accurately, you taught someone all those things and I inherited the memories. I’m not so different; all the little things are the same. My writing, hand writing, the intonation of my voice, but now I see the world differently. I am, fundamentally, a completely different person. 

Yet, I’m recovering little things about you that I forgot in the split. Our relationship and the way you used to speak to me. If I’m to be honest, all I remembered up until now was vague and not good at all. I had blocked out the things about you I feared and the things I loved all the same. I didn’t remember that time you picked out your wedding dress or all those moments you said you loved me. I didn’t remember the time you got so angry with me that you cursed at me. When I finally did, each word hit me again as if the first time. Your love built me up and your hate tore me to pieces. It only goes to show that even when I lose a part of myself, some of me will always remember you and perhaps the rest will learn to love you again. 

Forever yours, Hypatia