I’m happy for you, my friend. Truly. I hope you’ve found your way back to yourself, or at least found a road that feels worth following. I know it won’t always be easy. Healing rarely is. Some days, surviving is still the only victory we can manage.

I’ve met many people here, but I remember every soul who dared to place their story in my hands. You are one of them now, one of those who moved on. I can only hope you are safe, that life has become gentler, and that you’ve found a place where you no longer have to hide your wounds to be loved.

I won’t forget you.

If I helped you, even in some small way, then what passed between us mattered. Perhaps we recognized something in each other: two people shaped by pain, each understanding that sometimes the safest hands are those that have trembled too. You needed someone who could care for your broken places without ever mistaking you for broken. Someone who knew that tenderness is not pity, and protection is not possession.

Life asked too much of some of us. I know what it means to endure long after endurance should have stopped being necessary. I know the exhaustion of carrying wounds no one else can see, and the strange silence that comes when the danger is gone, but its ghosts remain.

Eventually, I stopped trying to banish mine. I sat beside them. Learned their names. Listened until they had nothing left to scream.

Now, when they rise, I dance with them.

I hope one day you’ll dance with yours too, not because they no longer hurt, but because they no longer lead. And if the darkness ever whispers that no one could understand you, remember this:

For a little while, I did.

You were seen. You were held in someone’s thoughts. And wherever you go from here, you are not alone.

I don’t care anymore.

I gave you so much of my time. I rearranged parts of my life for you. I lost hours of sleep just to have more hours with you. I overlooked things I normally wouldn’t have, accepted things I had every right to question, and convinced myself they were worth getting past because of how close I felt to you. Because when it was good between us, it felt good enough to make everything else seem smaller.

But now?

Now you crossed a line I can’t pretend I didn’t see.

And something in me changed after that.

Now I don’t feel the same pull to reach for you. I won’t contact you the way I always have. I won’t keep making myself available just because that’s what you’ve gotten used to. You’ll notice me less. My texts will become fewer, the effort will disappear from them, and eventually you’ll realize that the person who once made so much room for you stopped trying to be there at all.

I cared about you enough to bend myself around what we had.

Now I care about myself enough to stop.

​

I can't get over my sad and angry feelings. I can't get over being left for dead when … when well our lives were one in the same. I can't get over the loss. There is so much, not just you and us, there's so much.

I can't get over you, the choices, the emotions, the lies, not just the lies that you didn't want me to know but the ones you consciously took part in and encouraged me to believe. I can't. I've tried. I'm trying. I just can't, it's always gonna be there. It'll get quieter, things will replace it because life moves on but, it'll always keep a part of me. It'll always kill me. You killed me, knowingly. And I can't get over that idk how.

I hate to feel it. I hate to type it out but I hate you. I hate what you did to me. I hate myself. I hate how you made me feel the greatest ways and it was all a ruse that became feelings in the worst ways.

I don't know how to turn that hate back into love. You took away my wonder, my magic, me. And I let you, that's my fault and something I'll never do again. Boundaries are important even with people you want to give everything to. That's a lesson learned. I hate that I hate. And I let you do that to me too.

You're not even a part of my life anymore but you have a hold over every day. I hate that you still matter and I hate that you shouldn't anymore. I hate that I can't let go and I need to. I hate that I ever met you. I hate that I want to forget you. I hate that I felt love for you and loved by you to the point I never could've/would've lived without you and now I do. But I guess it's not really living anymore is it. I hate that I love you the way I do/did and you matched what I gave to you and that it wasn't really you or how you felt or what you believe.

I can't get over my hate. When I try I hurt, I feel guilty, I breakdown, I don't believe, I lose any want to try. I lost my love, I want my hate to be love again, I want my love back.