Tell her you love her, that you have never loved anyone else the way you love her.
If I could freeze frame what happiness looks and feels like, it would be March 17, 2014.
Please forgive me, one more time for letting you go, for not coming back sooner, for not knowing that I had everything when I had you.
You remembered him like it was serenity. You stop in your tracks, gaze at the sky, smiling as you begin to close your eyes; then you breathe — like it was your first.
You taught me how to live without needing anyone but you never taught me how to live without needing you.
“There was this guy…” I’ll tell her and because she won’t know you, she’ll only see what I want her to.
I didn’t prepare for the process of undoing. I didn’t prepare to scour my home, the place we’d called home together, and take down all remnants of you.
It is difficult to move on. It breaks you down in ways you never expected to be broken before. But when this happens, do not fear the rebuilding. Do not lament the pieces of yourself that you have lost, the pieces of yourself that were left over.
I still don’t know what to do. I am not sure if I should tell you or just get used to the fact that we’ll never be and be happy with being your friend.
When we broke up, a part of my life was deleted, like the words we used to write to each other. His girlfriend didn’t want us to have contact or peace in the wake of our end. I wasn’t attempting to tear apart what they built or embark on a romantic pursuit.