You deserve one, you do. To begin with I would like to indicate that in greeting you I did not have the desired 'Dear'. Many other things are essentially dearer than you, yes -- the fridge, the pen, the dash, the alphabets, this blogspace -- way dearer, today. Once I had thought otherwise. I wanted to believe that you are greater than all things that beget my love, my appreciation. I was wrong, and I am glad. What makes me feel even more lavish is prefixing that puny "an" before what you are reduced to. Why I still had this need to write to you? Because just the other day (very casually), someone expressed a desire to marry me because of what I write. It was the same with you, don't you remember? You 'fell in love with my mind'. This same mind. Perhaps you couldn't fathom its immense potential. To be honest, nor could, or have I.
You deserve this letter today not because there is a list of pungent remarks I want to launch at you, no. I felt the need to express that you have done very well in life to suit your standards and that of your expectations', but you couldn't suit mine being a daddy. I detested you calling me Bou. I wish you were friendlier with me, not bossier. I wish you let me breathe rather than choke me with colours and ideas of a 'good life'. Actually, I do not wish. That would mean being with you to suit your needs, all the time. Catering to your temper, your socio-corporate image and your designed breakfast would often make me feel pukish. I have learnt a lot from you, as you would point out, you discovered my skill in chopping, and nurtured my knack in doodling, but the seminal enlightenment I have today is to be a little less trusting, thank you.
I understand, you still love me and would have wanted more of me in your life as the ideal wife who drives and cooks and teaches in a college and drinks and is a mother to two and decently presentable. I understand you were shocked with the dignified silence with which I carried out the annulment of our legal-bound relationship. What I could never understand was did you ever care to know what I wanted out of us? Yes, that was different in you and me. You wanted something out of me, while I expected something of us. You could never accommodate that thought. Assumed 'perfection' was your middle name, right? I hope you have got a prettier, homelier, effective wife, catering to all your needs without ever raising a question. That would really make you happy. Yes, I do hope you are happy because there is nothing I would gain from you being distraught anymore. I hope you have a daughter, who gets you as a friendlier father than a father figure. Children appreciate that.
As for me? I really cannot understand why I am about to post this letter publicly, or why I needed to speak out. I just wish for you to know that I am happier today, freer. I drive, travel, cook, doodle, smile because I feel like it all. Yet, I cannot disagree that we have not had our shared happy moments. There were. But without you, the mountains look better.
And that is how we live,
Kents.
You deserve this letter today not because there is a list of pungent remarks I want to launch at you, no. I felt the need to express that you have done very well in life to suit your standards and that of your expectations', but you couldn't suit mine being a daddy. I detested you calling me Bou. I wish you were friendlier with me, not bossier. I wish you let me breathe rather than choke me with colours and ideas of a 'good life'. Actually, I do not wish. That would mean being with you to suit your needs, all the time. Catering to your temper, your socio-corporate image and your designed breakfast would often make me feel pukish. I have learnt a lot from you, as you would point out, you discovered my skill in chopping, and nurtured my knack in doodling, but the seminal enlightenment I have today is to be a little less trusting, thank you.
I understand, you still love me and would have wanted more of me in your life as the ideal wife who drives and cooks and teaches in a college and drinks and is a mother to two and decently presentable. I understand you were shocked with the dignified silence with which I carried out the annulment of our legal-bound relationship. What I could never understand was did you ever care to know what I wanted out of us? Yes, that was different in you and me. You wanted something out of me, while I expected something of us. You could never accommodate that thought. Assumed 'perfection' was your middle name, right? I hope you have got a prettier, homelier, effective wife, catering to all your needs without ever raising a question. That would really make you happy. Yes, I do hope you are happy because there is nothing I would gain from you being distraught anymore. I hope you have a daughter, who gets you as a friendlier father than a father figure. Children appreciate that.
As for me? I really cannot understand why I am about to post this letter publicly, or why I needed to speak out. I just wish for you to know that I am happier today, freer. I drive, travel, cook, doodle, smile because I feel like it all. Yet, I cannot disagree that we have not had our shared happy moments. There were. But without you, the mountains look better.
And that is how we live,
Kents.
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