I am not over you yet, and I can’t be friends with you or even talk to you until I am. I have no idea how long that is going to be. It takes me a long time to let go.
Let me tell you a story you already know.
My brother died when I was twelve. I spent so much time following his death wishing and praying for him to come back. Long after I should have, I was still waiting to wake up and find out his passing was all a dream. I knew there was no chance of him coming back. That did not stop my heart from aching for his presence, even as his absence became more and more apparent.
And now, I could say the exact same things about you.
You left me when I was twenty-one. I spend so much time following our breakup wishing and praying for you to come back. Long after I should, I am still waiting to wake up and find out your leaving was all a dream. I know there is no chance of you coming back. That does not stop my heart from aching for your presence, even as your absence became more and more apparent.
Except you are not dead. And unlike my brother, I do get bits of hope that seem more realistic than the flickers I had for him. Because every time you text me or talk to me or look at me, it is a reminder that, unlike my brother, your absence is a choice. And you could choose to come back. But that choice is why I cannot talk to you.
And so maybe you are still thinking that one day, when I am over this, we can be friends, but how could I? If any of my friends treated me and my family the way that you did, I would be hesitant to forgive. And that is not even considering the promises you broke. How can I be friends with someone I have no trust for? How can I turn to you as someone to confide in when you took my confidence and shattered it?
I need to get over you, and I can’t do that if you bring up all we’ve been through, all we know about each other’s families, all we know about each other. Because that just makes me realize how incredibly, hopelessly, and helplessly I am still in love with you.