A letter to you.

Dearest reader,

Recently I came across something I wrote back in March to a guy I was once in love with. I debated whether or not posting it on here, not wanting to seem petty or hung up on him, but this blog is dedicated to me giving you guys unsolicited personal information in hopes of helping you deal with the heartbreak in your life. So I might as well post whatever the hell I want.

I’ve been staring at this page for ages. Wondering what to write, how to even begin describing the first line of our whole story. I guess it was more a chapter than a book. It was short and sweet, the kind of thing you wish would have lasted longer. The day you left I blamed myself. I thought if I was better, if I wasn’t this broken little thing you had to stitch back together, if I wasn’t lost - then you would have stayed. You would have never abandoned nearly 2 years with me if I was good enough. That was the most horrible week of my life, not because it felt like time stood still, but because life had to go forward. I couldn’t hit the pause button until I felt better. I needed to plaster on that smile you were always going on about and go to orientation. I had to make this whole new life for myself without you in it, without the one person I thought I trusted and loved more than anyone else. I didn’t want to start a whole new chapter, I was stuck on the last page of ours, because there couldn’t be a period if I never truly stopped loving you. There was a semi colon, hinting to an empty page that I couldn’t fill. And then I started thinking how much happier you are now. Now that you’ve gotten rid of me, now that you pushed me away far enough after all the complete and utter shit we went through. I called it a phase, a blip, something we could see past. You called it the end.

And I’m not calling you the bad guy, in a way it was foolish of me to think our relationship was fine when it clearly wasn’t. When you’ve been thinking of breaking up for weeks while I just tried to keep you happy with the amount I could do. I never would have left, even at times when I was so unhappy. That kind of devotion wasn’t a two way street and that’s alright because you wanted to live your life. I’m just scared I won’t be able to live mine without you in it. But this is the final letter after all, the one I’ve been dreading to type because I didn’t know if I would be able to stop. And if I didn’t stop the tears would start and that’s worse than not feeling anything at all. Telling people was the worst part. Each and every time I had to say the words it broke me a little more. To the point where I was shattered, and the pieces were too tiny to break anymore. I still wonder how you feel, how you’re coping. We put on this fake portrayal of ourselves on social media - a happier version of the two of us apart, when we’re both suffering.

The day you came to my house made it all rewind and fast forward in my head again. The memories of us in a supercut glitched like an old record player. It was beautiful and terrifying in one sentence. But I have to let you go. I have to let the idea of us go to be happy again. To be truly happy. You’ll never read this, but I know will, and it’ll be a reminder of how far I’ve come.

-Luke