So I Write

Dear Anna,

It has been awhile since you passed, but life goes on for me as it always does.

I have lived a thousand lives, and seen a thousand deaths. I did not know any differently. I did not know I was different, that people do not live their lives out for centuries, for I have always kept to myself.

Then one day, I journeyed to a Gypsy camp, and a crazy-eyed woman eyed me with suspicion. She told me to crease her palm with silver, and I did, and she read me my fate. She told me I would live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths, and that none of them would mean a thing until I met you and you would be taken from me, as others have been.

I was horrified, and I vowed that I would never fall in love. Time crawled by, for time never flies for a man with an immortal soul, and I had no purpose in life but to watch the ages go by. I learned detachment, for it was much too hurtful to watch the ones you love die, and I learnt the meaning of a thousand deaths. I learnt to forget, and I marvelled at how quickly memories could blur and fade, like a watercolour painting left out in the rain.

Then one day I met you.

Beautiful, lovely Anna, whose smile lit up my entire life.

A thousand clichés of love came to fruition when you entered my life. Never in all the years I had lived, could I deny the way my heart fluttered when you was near, how intensely I craved for you, and despite my reservations, I pursued you like a man possessed.

You doubted me, and it seemed like you did not return my feelings. Still, I waited in hopes that your mind would change.

Fair Anna, the day you promised me your hand in marriage was one of the happiest in my life. Birds sang a little louder, the flowers smelt a little sweeter and the colours seemed a little brighter. I decided that living a thousand lives was worth the wait.

It seems strange that I did not expect time to take its toll. I watched the creases of your face deepen, and your hair turn white, while my face remained unchanged. I watched your body become frail, and your grip become weaker, while mine retained its vigour. Worse, I watched the hurt and confusion enter your eyes, for we could not deny the difference that had become us, and I could not explain it any more than you wanted to know.

One day I woke up and you were no longer with me.

No goodbyes, no last kisses.

Nothing except your made side of the bed, for you were always such a stickler for neatness.

Perhaps you are wandering the world, trying to justify my existence, as I once did. Perhaps you have passed on from this world, but you chose to do it without me, to spare me the pain of certain death.

Perhaps you will find the answer you are looking for, as I did with you.

So I sit and wait for your return.

And I will wait till the water runs dry, and the first icicles form in the nine hells.

I will wait for you.

Love,

Jack