I can’t tell you exactly when I started to stray. Maybe it was when I chose an academic career rather than a creative one. I thought it was more realistic, would bring me more success, financial reward. I thought, I had no choice.
While I carried on living this life, the other moved at parallel to me. Its presence taunted me of all I had forsaken – hopes, aspirations, dreams, happiness – though over time, its presence slowly began to fade into oblivion.
I would write letters to it, as if a long lost lover. I wrote how I longed to see it, how I wished for it be with me. I would plead with it to visit once in a while, even if just in my dreams. I would write how the life I was living felt empty, so meaningless without it. I would sign off, seal it and send it off hoping with my all, that one day we would be reunited.
As I posted the letters out to oblivion, I wondered – how many others were out there? Love letters to other lives not lived.