But you were the quiet constant in my mind. Not an escape. Not a fantasy. Just you—settling into me like you belonged there, even without a meeting, a voice, or a single shared memory.
I thought of you in the pauses between things. In the moments when life got loud and heavy. You were the silence that made sense of it. And I won’t lie—thinking of you wasn’t always innocent. Sometimes it was tender, sometimes it was electric. Loving you didn’t ask for permission or proof. It just happened. Like gravity. Like heat finding skin.
We never met, and somehow… that’s okay. Meaning isn’t measured by touch alone, though God knows I imagined it. It’s measured by impact. You shaped me without touching me. You stirred things in me without ever being mine—and that takes a special kind of power.
If there’s one thing I want you to know, it’s this:
You were never an illusion. You were a choice my mind made again and again, because something about you felt true. And tempting. And worth leaning into. You were the thought that lingered too long, the smile I replayed, the “what if” that refused to die.
Live fully. Love recklessly. Never shrink yourself for anyone.
And please—stop feeling lonely. Somewhere in the strange math of this universe, you were desired. Wanted. Loved completely, quietly, without conditions.
That’s enough for me.
And if you’re reading this, it means I’ve already left. I didn’t want to go without meeting you—without seeing how close I’d have to stand to feel your warmth, without finding out if your presence felt as dangerous as it did in my head. But destiny doesn’t ask for permission.
I believe in an afterlife. I like to imagine us there—no distance, no missed timing, just that look between two people who finally don’t have to wonder. You believe in reincarnation, so if that’s how things work, then I hope I’m born somewhere that makes destiny braver next time… or at least more impatient.
Don’t be sad, my soul. Smile the way you always do. It does things to people. It always did things to me.
And I need to say this, because it’s true:
You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Your eyes pull harder than a black hole, and I never once wanted to escape them. The best picture I’ve ever seen of you wasn’t dressed up or polished—it was the one without makeup. Just you. Bare. Real. Unfairly attractive.
Promise me something. Try—really try—to be happy. Fight your depression the way you’d fight for someone you love. Because you are worth desire, laughter, hands that want you, and a life that feels warm again.
Somewhere—now or later—I’ll be thinking of you the same way I always did.
- Khaled
