I finally sit in comfortable silence between the gaps of the first honest conversation we’re having.

No treading on eggshells around you, no pauses to see how the other will react––just acceptance and understanding.

This is how it should have been from the beginning, but this is how we come to writing our final chapter.

It would only be too easy to say it was my lack of trust in either your words or actions, or that it was your lack of communication and your dependence on space mending the heated arguments that left us more distant and estranged than when we first began.

But we both knew we fell for the other with idealistic notions of saving the other from our own insecurities and need to be loved, understood and accepted. You weren’t ready for the love I was to give, and I wasn’t patient enough to teach you the lessons you needed to learn for yourself.

You were a rock I was trying to draw blood from. I began to know you better than those you called your best friend, I read the words you never said and the expressions you don’t realize you make. I saw the insecurities and the unspoken sadness and dissatisfaction that resided in your heart. But you forgot to include me in the process of living out your future. We set out with the right intentions, but ended up on the wrong page.

I waited for you to release it so I could share in your burden, but I waited for someone who wasn’t ready to place his heart in the hands of another.

Do not get me wrong, all the words I’ve spoken in all the ebbs and flows of love that I felt for you––this sharp realization does not detract from the way I felt about you. I will remember us fondly, and keep our memories in the recesses of my mind, but darling I must let you go.

Maybe one day we will have a real chance, but for now, I guess we’ll say goodbye.