I am not afraid to shed the skin that once was warm with your touch. The familiarity I wore like an extra layer—one, for the longest time, I was too stubborn to take off.
Sometimes lost love is a reminder. Of who we are. Of our worth.
This year, I’m letting go of people, of things, of feelings, of thoughts that aren’t mine to keep. That aren’t bringing me hope. That aren’t pushing me to be a better person or inspiring me to stand after I’ve fallen down.
Releasing is not synonymous with giving up. Releasing is space, new beginnings, and hope.
Heartbreak is not meant to be a permanent resident.
I had turned a human into my home, too naive to notice the thousands of signs warning me against doing so.
I no longer love you. It’s as simple as that. It’s as difficult as that. I’m no longer in love with you. And nothing is as simple as that. Nothing is more difficult than that.
You deserve to lead your best possible life without him dragging you down. You deserve to be happy in your current reality without being trapped in old memories. You deserve to be unabashedly yourself without anyone dimming your light.
I have learned that loving you means letting you leave.
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.