X,
Man, I hate feeling this way about you. I’m trying not to. I look back on our history and remember the good things about you—amazing memories from a time long gone, when we were young and didn’t know any better.
Then life happened.
You disappeared from my life, and I resented you for it. I think that’s when all of this started.
In the last few years, you’ve told me why you left. Your reasoning is sound, and I understand the need to correct a mistake. I just wish I didn’t still feel so raw about it.
The truth is, I miss how I used to feel about you.
I’m saying these things in writing because I’m too much of a coward to say them to your face.
It’s not your fault—I know that. I’m not right with myself; I haven’t been for a long time. You can’t help me with that. It’s my burden, and I don’t know how to fix it.
Just know that as I continue trying to reconcile it all, I don’t mean to hurt you.
Part of me hopes you’ll leave—because at least when you’re gone, I don’t have to pretend to be okay anymore.
1.7562 Billion Miles 