AN OPEN LETTER TO THE MAN WHO BROKE MY HEART

You were my first love. On a rainy Sunday evening in November I allowed you to walk in and see the darkest parts of me. And on a night in August you walked out and closed the door firmly on everything we dared to dream and hope for.

Sitting here as an older and wiser me, I realized that we were really just two kids way in deep over our heads, trying to figure out something we both didn’t know how to. In the end was either of us really to blame for what was inevitable?

Remember when you said there had to be a reason why we met? That God probably directed you to meet me? In innocence and naivety I said probably you were what I needed to restore my faith. And restore my faith you did. You helped me see life in colour, made me believe that everything I wanted could happen, and I was worthy and capable of being loved.

But somewhere along the lines, something went wrong. There was just no fixing us.

Because there was no fixing us, I watched as my life crumbled and fell apart. I cried myself to sleep countless number of nights wondering why life was so cruel. Why did God allow me to meet you if I couldn’t have you? Then I could no longer pray because betrayal twice hurts.

For the second time in my life I watched as exactly what I wanted got taken away from me.

For the second time in my life I felt a pain that words could not describe.

Suddenly I was left alone to figure out everything. It was then I realized that you were not my white knight in shining armour coming to save me. It was then I realized that there were no white knights and I was not a damsel in distress. It was then…in the midst of my pain, anger, confusion, and hurt…did I realize that I only needed me to save myself.

And save myself I did. I saved myself from my inner demons, from the unnamed nights, from the darkness and despair that pervaded my life. Yet you were always two steps away and I held on to the thought of you like a five year old with their favourite blanket.

Do you remember the last time we actually saw each other and talked? It was about a year after everything, when the dust had settled. We agreed to meet as friends and nothing more. We sat opposite each other, smiled, and talked almost like old times till we found ourselves using the expressions “I remember you…” and “Glad to see some things haven’t changed.” While sitting opposite you I realized that whatever we had was gone and we were now strangers.

Our last conversation? Do you remember it?

I remember your last message. I opened it. I read it. Then I deleted it.

Up to this day I have never responded to it.

One day I finally worked up the courage to delete your number. The last trace of your existence in my world. See…I found love after I healed myself. I told myself how fair was it to compromise my present and future with a painful piece of my past?

I took a deep breathe and deleted your number.

We haven’t spoken in how long now? Three years? Maybe, four? I’ve lost track.

We haven’t seen each other in five years.

You said goodbye about six years ago.

And here I am writing to you…for what? God alone knows. But writing is my therapy.

Six years later I am not the shell of the girl you once knew. I guess I have you to thank for that.

I’m sorry I never responded to your last message. I just couldn’t bring myself to actually say the words.

I do hope you’re well and life is treating you kind.

Maybe one day you’ll stumble across this. By now I hope you know I meant it when I said there was nothing to apologize. I hope you know I forgive you. Most importantly, I hope you have forgiven yourself.

If our paths never cross again in this lifetime, I hope you know I wish nothing but the best for you.

THE END

Thank you for reading one of my more personal and introspective pieces meant to provide me with some cathartic relief.

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