Letter to the Object of My Affections

Funny, I swore I just wrote you a letter yesterday...?  This is one you won't read.

I felt today that I had perhaps been too hasty with the things I said yesterday, with the decisions I made.  I know, ultimately, it's what I needed to do, and perhaps it is better that I did them in that way.  The feeling of haste lingers because I didn't get to ask you these questions:

Was it not worth it?  With all the obstacles standing in the way, our way, would it have not been worth it?
Why was it too hard for you to talk to me?
Do you ever think that we will be able to talk to each other without spurring those kinds of feelings?
Why won't you tell me anything?

Perhaps it is best that you don't.  If I knew the exact thoughts you had right now, well it would probably make me want you more, or satiate my curiosity and I'd think of you less.  Look, I keep listening to this song and you once told me how you wished it would never leave you.  Why are you like that with songs, with films, with conversations, all these tangible things...but not with people?  Why are you so afraid?

I won't get to ask you these questions anytime soon, I know I did the right thing.  I know you did, too.  "If you zoom out until the Earth is a tiny blue marble, it seems so trivial.  We can just make tracks in the sand and follow them," until we meet each other, I think is what you meant to say.

Anyway.

Truly,
Dayana