To him
I don’t know where to begin– maybe because I never got the chance to end things properly. Maybe because nothing truly ended, it just unraveled… quietly, painfully, falsely. I spent 1 year mourning the death of something I thought you killed. I carried the weight of your supposed betrayal like a second spine – one that bent me in ways I never knew possible.
I questioned every memory, every phone call, every time you said you loved me. I hated you. I hated myself for still loving you. And all along the truth was buried in someone else’s lie.
I need you to know this: I grieved you like a ghost, Ryan. And now, here you are – not dead, not dishonest, just misjudged. Stolen from me by a mouth I trusted.
What we were– God, it mattered. Maybe more than I allowed myself to admit. Maybe, more than you ever knew. And now I’m left sitting through ashes that should’ve never burned.
Do I still love you? I think a part of me always will. But that love is different now. It’s cautious. It flinches. It asks questions before it dares to hope again.
And maybe that’s okay. You said you want us back. But what if I don’t even know who I am without the heartbreak? What if I’m still learning how to exist without the lie?
Still… if you’re willing to walk with me– through the hurt, through the healing, through the reckoning– then maybe we could find something new. Not what we were. But something honest.
Sincerely,
The version of me you didn’t deserve back then– but maybe you do now.
