I’m really sorry I don’t love you enough, that I haven’t loved you enough.
You’ve been through so much. I know that. You’ve been hurt your whole life, and a lot of the time that hurt has overshadowed any love you’ve received. I’m sorry it’s gotten to you this way.
It’s just that hurt is one of the most ironic things, you know? No one wants to be hurt. It hurts to hurt. Whatever you are grieving the loss of- a lover, a friend, a version of yourself you never wanted to become- it’s draining. It starts out as an emotional wound and then becomes physical.
This is when you stop eating because if you even think about it, you want to throw up. Or you eat to cope, to deal with the stress of everything. This is when your heart actually feels in pain; it’s not just a fluke. You start getting migraines from crying so hard. Your body is so tired from simply living and it’s the saddest thing you could ever see.
So yeah, that hurt takes you over. It uses your emotions as an excuse to host itself inside of you, to grow, to consume your soul and turn it into something you don’t recognize.
But when that hurt is gone you almost miss it, like a phantom limb. Like the last real summer day, where the sun and moon can still sneak glances at each other in the same sky before one leaves and the other arrives.
It hurts to hurt, and yet, it also hurts not to.
But I want you to know that from now on I’m going to try harder, to be stronger. To stop finding faults, to protect you from hurting without hiding. To get better at being alone, because the company I really should be seeking right now is my own.
I hope one day you’re proud of me. I don’t want to let you down anymore. I love you, always.