A Love Letter To the Little Prince

I was seventeen when I first met you, and it was during a quiet and cold night with stars barely twinkling in the sky. The hands of the clock kept on pointing in different directions while I struggled to fall asleep, feeling empty like there was this voice inside me, echoing and echoing without anybody hearing anything at all. Late hours meant pangs of sadness, but that night, it was different. And it was because of you.

You were the most clueless and innocent person I have ever known. I remember you talk about how you found the grown-ups you met to be quite strange. I thought that you only saw it like that because you were too young. You would not really understand them because the world in your eyes was a masterpiece to admire; compared to their view, the world was just another painting to sell and get known for. To you, to live is to experience. To them, to live is to function.

You walked around thinking about this irreplaceable rose of yours while you became close to others. You loved the fox and the pilot. But you also loved your rose. And the thing is that I knew that you were missing her. I knew, that at some point, you were going to leave. You had to because she needed you, and you needed (to see) her.

I listened to your voice and adored your laughter, but you ended everything with a saddening parting. I tried to keep in touch with you, and somehow we ended things in the same way. Despite our conversations, you really couldn’t stay even though I wanted you to.

You were lost; I was sad. You had a rose; I had nothing. You were too young while I was growing up. You had a curious mind while I had a glass heart, and I am not sure if it will matter to you, but my glass heart has cracks and they are your–departure’s–doings.

I met other people. There was this foolish yet hopeful man named Gatsby, a smart yet depressed woman named Esther, a poetic and caring teenager named AJ. Different people charmed and fascinated me. But even so, there are times when I just find myself being dragged back to you.

I never really knew that I have loved you until now. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to relive that night of meeting you, the prince, without being abandoned at the end because, with all honesty, you gave me hope.

For someone who is fond of sunsets, you almost fooled me into thinking that you are a sunrise. Maybe that’s why I love it when the sky bleeds–it’s because I am reminded of you, the prince who gave me hope but left me alone.


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