Yes, I woke up thinking about you.
Not in the way that I used to, thank god. There was no shattering pain when I couldn’t tell you good morning, no bleeding ache when I replayed your last words in my head — The ones that said you didn’t love me anymore. Not even an echo of those words sounded.
But still, I was thinking about you.
It was unnerving. Irritating. Uncomfortable. And why?
It must be because I’d heard about your new girlfriend the night before, my drowsy conscious realized. That definitely wasn’t a dream.
In the face of your new relationship, I can’t help but think about when we were us — who we were then and who we are now. I usually like to think we have nothing in common; that ever since we broke up you have no place in my life and no idea what my life is even like. You don’t know this version of myself.
Maybe it’s because I’m half asleep, or maybe it’s because I found out you have a new girlfriend, but I’m not thinking how I usually think this morning. I’m thinking about what we do have in common.
We have three years worth of love and memories in common. It’s a measureless array of inside jokes, late nights, confusion, anger and promises — some broken, some kept.
And for once, I let these memories make me smile.
We have a past in common that no one can erase — not any of the guys I’ve seen, not even your new girlfriend.
Your girlfriend. That phrase sticks in my head among all the other thoughts, even though I always knew that it was coming. I’d toy with the idea on occasion; try to conceive how I would react.
And now that it’s happened I can’t help but think about the two of you. I imagine that she asked about your past girlfriends and I wonder what you told her about me. I genuinely wonder.
There’s no deep pang of jealousy, no anger or resentment. And in the spirit of honesty, I’d expected all three.
So this is what acceptance feels like. I never imagined it would be so quiet.
Mostly I find myself annoyed that whatever you might have said about me isn’t true anymore. For everything we do have in common, all the moments I’ve ruminated on this morning, I am not the same person you once knew. It’s a relief to fully realize and accept that — to know it wasn’t a defense mechanism meant to create distance.
I am not the same girl you asked out, not the same girl you loved and not the same girl who’s heart you broke. I am stronger because of the hell you put me through.
And now you have a new girl.
I hope she doesn’t go through what I had to — I hope she makes you happy. I’d tell you to learn from your mistakes with me but that would involve addressing this letter when I really have no intention of talking to you.
More important than you reading any of these thoughts is that I know them to be true. And that’s why I’ll never even need to send this. It’s just for me.