There Are No Words For The Pain You’ve Caused Me, But I Am No Longer Afraid To Heal

There are no words for the way I cared about you, for the way I wrapped my life around yours, for the way I wasn’t afraid, even for a second, of the potential—who and what we could be.

There are no words for the way I trusted you, for the way I sat next to you on my couch and poured out my heart, bit by bit, piece by piece, until yours was filled. And listened as you did the same, for the first time, you said, in so long.

There are no words for the way I believed everything that came from your lips—the sound of my name, the insecurities, the pain—and did my best to bear that weight for the both of us.

No words for the softness of your mouth on mine, or the way we spoke love before we ever said that phrase aloud.

There are no words for the way I fell into you, hesitantly, then all at once. Embracing the comfort of your hands in mine, or the warmth in my chest when I absentmindedly picked up my phone and recognized your voice.

There are no words for the way I gave you what I had and more, thinking nothing but the best for you, for us, for our future.

No words for the way I was so willing, in your arms, to believe in love again. To believe that not all relationships would be the same. That not everything ended with a broken heart.

There are no words for the way my chest ached after, thousands of miles and regrets and confusion lying between us, leaving me with bittersweet emptiness and a resounding, ‘why?’

There are no words for the pain you’ve caused me, but I am no longer afraid to heal.

I am no longer afraid to pick up the broken pieces of myself and start anew, to carve a careful place between what was and what is and start again.

I am no longer afraid to let go of what will never be, and accept that I am stronger because of what happened, and deserving of far more than you could ever give.

I am no longer afraid to forgive myself for all the things I said and did and didn’t, and to accept that sometimes we fall into impermanent people. And sometimes this can be both a blessing and a lesson, no matter the outcome.

And I am no longer afraid to forgive you. For the way you took what I had to give and lied to your own heart about what we could become. For the way you gave up. For the words you didn’t say, the promises you didn’t keep.

I am no longer afraid to acknowledge that yes, I am hurting, but I will heal.

And so, I wish you the best in whatever road you take, path you carve. I wish you happiness and love, the kind of love that, for whatever reason, you never believed in with me.

I wish you eyes to look forward, not back, and a hopeful heart for what’s to come, not what you’ve lost. I wish for your journey to continue in strength and that you find fullness and peace, in whoever’s arms you fall into next.

There are no words, really, to express the pain, the confusion, the joy, the ache. No words to make sense of the tumble in my heart. But this is what I wish for you, and for myself, in this next beautiful chapter. Remembering wholeness again.