Well, to be honest, I believe you are, or at least that you’re where you want to be.
It’s been a year since you left without looking back. I’m not blaming you, and I’m not trying to paint you as some kind of “villain.” After all, we’re free to come and go, to do or not do whatever we choose.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about you a lot. One night not long ago, I was feeling so stressed and anxious that I went looking for that piece of clothing you made for me. I haven’t worn it since, but I keep it with great care.
I can still remember your eyes, your beautiful face, your voice. I still remember when we used to play together, watch things, talk for hours. I miss you deeply, but I understand that, for you, leaving was the right thing to do.
You know, loss isn’t new to me. So I don’t romanticize things like “eternal love,” “soulmates,” or “finding each other in another life.” I’d rather acknowledge how happy you made me while you were in my life, how much light you brought into it, and how deep the love and admiration I felt for you truly were.
I think I’ll carry these memories and this grief over our relationship for the rest of my life. The connection I built with you while we were together feels like something I won’t find in other places or people. And the most ironic and tragic part is that it doesn’t seem to be mutual.
There’s one thing I know well: people tend to seek comfort in the past when they don’t have something better (or enough) in the present. Many people from my past reach out to me, and I know they’re not doing well. Just like me, here, anonymously digging through memories of what we had, because I wasn’t quite the same after losing you.
Anyway, I keep moving forward. Life goes on. Our relationship wasn’t my first loss, and it won’t be my last. But do I miss you… I really do.
If I could go back in time, I would love to meet you again and to be, once more, the man I was when I first met you.