Adele is the best, ever. okay, she didn't write the song nor produce the video but her voice is phenomenal.
another long one. well here goes.
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where are you? i'm sorry for the things i've said.
she is alone in a London apartment. she is dressed beautifully, but her disheveled hair and smeared make-up indicates a ruined evening. the room is in a mess - pillows on the floor, table lamp displaced and an upturned chair by the window. the clock blinks 4:02 am. she rests the phone on the bed and walks to the table. she picks up an opened pen and starts writing a letter.
i know you don't understand the reason why i keep all of these secrets from you. and it hurts to know that tonight you discovered one of them from someone else... instead of me. honestly, it was my every intention to tell you tonight. but i guess the circumstances have made it impossible. and you already knew. i guess this is a letter to explain myself then.
i wanted to tell you right from the start. really, i did. you seemed like the sort that i could tell everything... everything without you judging me, without changing what you thought of me... and would still loved me.
but you see, i can't. i can't tell you everything because i am broken. i am too broken. there are parts of me scattered everywhere and i'm still searching for them. day by day i pick them up and piece myself again, and you make it easier. but until i'm whole again, or at least sufficiently whole, i don't have the courage to tell you everything i've been through.
i am unsure of how to explain myself for what's happened tonight. everything happened so fast. you coming in, asking me if it's true. and then i was stunned and didn't know what to say, we fought when i tried defending myself and you stormed off. i don't blame you for storming off, really. but i guess, i feel hurt when you didn't stay to wait for an explanation.
maybe in this letter i will find the courage to tell you the truth about me. everything.
i should start from the beginning, the day we met. we were both at a bar, both alone and looking for company. you came over and we started talking. as the night grew older and the conversation went deeper, you asked me why i returned to London, and i said i was here visiting my dad. but that was a lie. i wasn't visiting my dad, and i wasn't alone because my friends had to go off. i have no friends and i have no recollection of my father ever since i was three. and i am in London because i was running away from the life i've built.
i was running away because the life i have... had in California was wretched. it was sad to see how my life was playing out, even, depressing to see it going on. i literally had no life back there. everyday, i woke up in an empty apartment while the walls stared silently at me. and why i was alone is again, something i feel should be in this letter.
she stops writing, unable to carry on. she lets the tears fall onto the table and holds a deep breathe till she feels strong again. she continues the letter.
i used to be married. i'm sorry for not telling you, but i was married, twice. the first one, my husband left. just one day, he was gone without any explanation, vanished. i was in despair, like how one would be if the love of their life was suddenly erased from them. but then i met another guy, and he lifted the cloud. we fell in love, got married, and lived in the apartment i used to inhabit.
and then he disappeared too, not like the first one, but rather, he was gone physically. he got into an accident and that was it. and i guess i couldn't take it this time. i couldn't go through the process of people who never existed in my life suddenly appearing and telling me not to mourn, telling me what to feel, and then vanish after that. so i moved back here, back to where my life was just about to crumble, where California was nothing in my mind but a place. i came back and resolved to start afresh.
all was fine till i went to the bar, and met... you. you made me feel happy again. you made me fall in love, believe in love, all over again. and even though i felt my heart couldn't accept love again, you suppressed that. you made whatever doubt i had nonexistent and you made me see life differently, happily, made me love again.
but what is love anyway? is it a series of pain and misfortunes we go through, hoping to one day find someone that would never hurt us? i used to think that. it was what pulled me through my first separation. but now, i'm not so sure, because of you, i am unsure. with you, love isn't a fantasy, it isn't painful, isn't any form of obstacle. love to you, with you, is just love. it is real, it is everywhere and it is at it's simplest. love is real.
so as i write this letter, hoping you'll be able to read it and understand, know that you have made me a better person, know that you, are a great person. and i am deeply grateful for that. perhaps i am no longer lost, just a little hard to find.
i love you.
she puts the pen down and folds the letter. she walks to the bathroom but the phone rings. she is rooted for a second as the ringing passes through her. she walks to the bed and picks it up, fingers trembling.
"... hello?" she answers, looking at the moon that is tonight.
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inspirations:
just this:
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