One Day You’ll Thank Me For Letting You Go

I could’ve held on forever. I could’ve clung to your shirt as you stepped out the door. I could’ve set the alarm for an hour later; I could have hidden your keys. I could have looked in your enchanting eyes and told you I wanted you to stay.

But I would have been stalling, fending off an inevitable end. I would have simply been skirting around a future that didn’t include you – one that didn’t include us. You told me I’d be the death of you, and I knew you meant every word.

I wanted to tell the future to give me one last moment. That I knew what it had in store; I knew I couldn’t bring you, with me, into it. I knew the past was about to take you; I knew we were in the uncertain limbo of the present as it slipped away.

I would have told you to stay. I would have begged for it. But it would have been horrible of me to drag us through a cruel end.

You asked me if I believed in forever, and I shook my head no. So I cut it short, and I let you go.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short life, it is that attachment presupposes loss. And I felt myself leap to let you in; I felt the fence around my heart creak open after years of being shut impenetrably tight.

But I knew you wouldn’t be mine in the years to come. So before those gates opened completely, I let you go.

One day you will thank me for leaving us behind. For moving on, for not letting possibilities linger. You will thank me for selecting our ending. And one day, I’ll thank you for everything. For making me laugh, for listening to words I had never let leave my lips. For simply being there.

One day you’ll thank me for fading away. For creating a space for the woman who will love you the way you deserve to be loved, the woman who will give you all I never could. You’ll thank me for stepping aside so she can take her rightful place.

Sometime in the future ahead, you’ll thank me for our goodbye. I just hope that one day, you won’t regret that we first said hello.