I promise I'll be the remedy for bouts of sadness you didn't even know you'd have, though the dense melancholy you'll feel me may become unbearable. For I will fail in my endeavour to be the very thing you desire. Nonetheless, we shall experience seasons brimming with flowers, stratospheric love, nostalgic autumns, uncertain winters, and fleeting moments of euphoria that will explode all the atoms of our being. Perhaps we'll be old and young in the blink of an eye, capturing images of musicians, bridges, and people who look happier than we deserve.
In some way, I will be there when you need me most, filling you with a magical certainty. However, when you are at your best, I will not know how to be there for you, and the ensuing confusion will make you feel miserable more than once. I will never notice those internal battles you wage for me, and it will sadden me to discover that, in the end, our failure will be my fault. You will stop answering my calls with the same happiness that once overflowed like lakes of honey and orange blossoms. At that moment when I lose you, I will feel an overwhelming love that will forever alter my expectations of things, but it will be too late.
I will attempt to remedy the irremediable and be precisely what you always dreamed of, but it will be too late. When that moment arrives, clouds from other moons will fill everything with an endless shadow, obscuring our transient illusion. That perfect moment will no longer hold the same enchantment as before. Maybe you'll be right in thinking we were spellbound by sunsets and kisses that elicited sighs, that we existed due to the happenstance of circumstances and moments. I will then find it extraordinary to comprehend that the path was a winding trail, and that moment of absolute happiness and misery was a reflection of the small vaults where we concealed moments that both hurt and embraced us equally.
I will feel overwhelmed as I realize you won't be here next summer, and I will have to savour the bitter irony of silently enduring all those indispensable things we shared. My solitude would explode with each sunset, and I would question myself repeatedly, wondering why I couldn't be congruent with the things I so deeply desired. The memory of your scent will fill the empty chambers of my soul, and though fleeting, it will be heartrending to feel it. Even that moment when I'm left alone with myself and try to forgive, move forward, and await new laughter and another chance to give all that remains of me, it will be then that I learn to coexist with the inevitable reality. What died with you will never return.