My friend once told me that if I had decided let something go, I’d need to hold that one thing tight and count from ten to one.
Ten. I wanna go out for coffee alone and go to places I’ve been wanting to go to without the fear of running into you. I don’t want to avoid going out just because I’m avoiding you.
Nine. I wanna go home without being afraid that everything would feel the same as when I had left. I want to stop associating ‘home’ to such a terrible place just because you’re there. I want to want to come home.
Eight. I wanna say your name without feeling my chest tighten. As common as your name gets, be it a noun or a verb, I wanna say it straight up – not censor it, not say it backwards. I wanna say it like it never meant anything.
Seven. I have to stop wishing you the worst. I wanna stop imagining the day when you get beaten up, or get into an accident, or any kind of karma. I don’t want to have any thoughts about you anymore.
Six. I need to stop waiting for that day when you’d realize that you’re sorry for hurting and throwing away someone like me. That won’t change anything anyway. I’m happy and stronger for this life after the storm you left me to survive.
Five. I must stop blaming myself for all the shit that I had to go through because you existed in my life. And I wanna stop saying sorry to those I have disappointed and hurt in the process. I have to forgive myself.
Four. I have to stop being angry at you for not taking me seriously. For never answering my calls, for ignoring all my questions, and for leaving me to answer them on my own. I want to stop all this rage at her just because she was the reason why you didn’t come back. I have to stop being angry. I want to live in peace.
Three. I wanna stop telling myself that I’m a bad person. I shouldn’t be defined by my mistakes. I should stop beating myself up everyday just to make myself feel that I’m making up for it.
Two. I need to stop believing that I am worthless just because you decided to throw me away. I don’t want to be defined by the way you see me, or how you came to know me, or who you thought I was. You never really knew me.
One. I have to stop rewinding to that day when I first met you. I need to stop thinking of what could have been had I never walked through that door, or if only I arrived late and never caught a glimpse of you. I want to finally stop regretting what has happened, because I have to accept what is.
Thinking about everything for one last time feels like scratching a healing wound. This is me holding on to the grip tight enough for it to hurt me one last time. As I start to loosen my grip, I realized that it still hurts because I’m the only one holding on. You slip off easily from my grasp. And so, this is me letting you go.