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Dear Kiyoomi,
Right now, I’m in a haze of thoughts and I don’t know if I can write all of them in the order of which hurt me the most and which made me love you more even after we ended it. I don’t know where to start, what to start off with, how to put all my emotions into this without crying. Either way, it’s worth a try.
First of all, I want to apologize. There are many things that you just can’t get along with. Monsters live in your head, and you told me that as a kid, the only choice to save yourself from the threat of losing yourself was to accept the flaws that polished the rough edges of your identity. Ironic, isn’t it? How your flaws ended up fixing yourself instead of breaking you again. I also want to apologize for making you do things that you didn’t even want to do. I was your routine breaker, the harsh gust of wind blowing the flames on your ritual candles. The bigotry to your religion, the storm destroying your kempt fields. I’m sorry for loving you too much that I made it seem like I’m loving for both of us. No, Kiyoomi. I felt your love through soft kisses and hushed cries and whispered sweet nothings. The silence that filled the room when I yearned for solitary solace — I never asked you to love me conditionally. I wanted to give you the world on my own accord, on my own decision. But I guess the world was too heavy and you’re not Atlas; you don’t deserve to hold the world as a punishment.
Second of all, I had no regrets. We fought about you not giving anything to me. We fought about how much love one another should give. We fought about love and reunited about hate. That’s not good. I regret a lot, you know? Failed serves, weak tosses, muscle strains and shitty personality. I regret as often as I say my affections, Kiyoomi. One thing I would never regret is being with you. As a teammate, an opponent, a friend, a lover. You were the only good thing in my life, you know? Volleyball and you. My family and you. You were the only consistency I had in my life and it doesn’t matter to me if that consistency came to a permanent stop.
If I could write about you, I’d write you as the colors. I’d write you as the range of shades and hues of warmth and coldness. You were as pure and clean as white; as elusive and mysterious as black; your touches gave me that special warm ambience like entering a cottage in the middle of snow-clad forest with a mug of hot cocoa and a fireplace to keep me warm. Your affections were in the shades of red due to fervent desire, orange like the citrus fruit when you get a taste of it ( makes you want to feel a lot of things ), yellow like the sun — bright and abundant and strong.
I’d write you as the only memory I’d keep in a lifetime where I refuse to believe that the past has the significance to stay in my thoughts like the hermit in a cozy village. I’d write you as the person I yearn for in a lifetime where the only thing I’m focused on is anything that is constantly changing. You said I was a variable of essential things in human existence. Honestly, you shouldn’t have been with me. Change scares you. I scare you. I wanted to be the samurai who protects the nobles, but instead I became the mercenary who secretly kissed your life its last farewell. You loved literature and I didn’t, but when you gave me a book you loved so much, I read through it. Motoya-kun told me no one else held your books, let alone your stuff. Some of your books are still with me. I’ll return them when I have time to compile them.
( I learned English because of the books you gave me. The Song of Achilles was a fun read! Duolingo had a hard time helping me, though. But now, I can read it without any translator app. All thanks to you, Kiyoomi. )
If I were offered one wish to be granted, it would be a wish to have the ability to write a new life with you. I’d take you to the islands and we’d live there, surf atop flamboyant waves, play beach volleyball, sleep in our cabins and be frequently kissed by the sun! But of course I’d like to have your consent first, Omi Kiyoomi. I don’t like it when you’re forced to do things you don’t like. If you will let me, I still wish to spoil you even if we’re not together anymore. A type of spoiling where I’ll just fill your life with my presence. Treating you the way I did before would make you uncomfortable, so I’d rather become your trusted friend rather than the lover who let your happiness finish with a bitter adieu.
Please don’t take this the other way, but sometimes I don’t regret leaving you if that makes you much happier. However, there are days when I keep recollecting the past just to see where I went wrong. I loved you so much that memories suddenly mattered so much to me. It’s not a bad thing, please never see it that way.
Lastly, I pray to the gods I used to ignore that you will live a better life. You will find someone of your caliber, of your equal balance, of your familiarity. My name, Atsumu, has its greatest antonym — alone. Solitude. The state of being one in a million uncertainties. But I’m going to get through it. You went out of your comfort zone for me, Kiyoomi, so I will do as much as sacrifice for you. It’s love. I still love you, but never be guilty of letting me dwell in the rotten, dim and thorny forest of my endless desire to love. You don’t have to return my sentiments. This is the last wish I ask of you.
You were the amen to all of my prayers; the closure to my beginnings. The answers to all of my questions. You were the heaven I came home to after doubting the world in limbo. In a state of distress, you were my calm refuge.
I am not asking you to reply. You deserve to know this so you won’t have to question yourself every night. Fly high with great effort, Kiyoomi. Define memento mori as a sign to end all of your worries and anxieties instead of an end to life. You are an insatiable monster like me, so take over heights and conquer the innermost cores to find what you truly crave for. Do it with something, with someone, or even just yourself. Remember that I am always just a few steps afar, one call away, and two doors down the hallway.
Your No. 1 Fan
Your Greatest Enemy
Love
Sincerely,
Miya Atsumu