Dear You,
The pain of a broken heart is not easily put into words. It’s a unique kind of ache that leaves one feeling vulnerable and exposed. In the aftermath of our separation, I grappled with a spectrum of emotions – sadness, confusion, and even moments of self-doubt. I spent an even longer time trying to bring myself to put pen to paper and write this letter in an attempt to avoid the realization that it is truly over, before it ever really began.
I trust this letter reaches you at a point in your life where introspection and growth have become your guiding companions. As I sit down to write, I find myself navigating the delicate balance between closure and the need to articulate the intricate emotions that have lingered in the aftermath of our parting.
I miss you. But not in the way you might imagine. I miss the version of you I once believed in. The one who came into my life on a whim, took me by complete surprise, and dismantled the walls I had carefully built for myself all within I matter of months. I promised myself I wouldn’t allow myself to be vulnerable again – that I wouldn’t allow myself to be hurt. But you brought out something foreign in me. Something I didn’t recognize. The night I fell asleep in your arms I realized I felt safe. Secure. Happy.
But there was something that didn’t feel right. I know you felt it too.
The hardest thing is not knowing. Not hearing from you. Not having the closure. Being left to wonder what our story would’ve been, had we not given up. I think about all the events in my life you’ve missed. How much I’ve grown, and how proud you would’ve been of me to see it. I wonder if we would’ve gotten married one day, started a family, got our own house on the water like we talked about. I will always daydream. I will always wonder.
But now, I need to let you go. I need to let go of the lingering resentment. The what-ifs. The questions I will always have. The daydreams of the future. And now, I need to allow myself to heal.
I don’t know where to go from here. But I want to thank you.
Thank you for the nights you spent with me. Thank you for the laughter and the shared moments that once filled my days with warmth. Thank you for the lessons, both painful and beautiful, that you brought into my life. In a strange and twisted way, you became a catalyst for self-discovery and growth.
As I reflect on our time together, I realize that closure doesn’t always come in the form of a neatly tied bow. Sometimes, it’s an open-ended letter, a collection of memories, and the understanding that some questions may never have answers. In letting go, I am granting myself the freedom to create a new narrative for my life, one that doesn’t revolve around the past but instead focuses on the present and the potential of the future.
It’s not easy to convey the complexity of emotions that linger after a heartbreak. There are moments of strength when I feel empowered by the idea of a fresh start, and there are moments of vulnerability when the ache resurfaces. Yet, in this dichotomy, I find the essence of resilience and the unwavering human spirit.
I’ve come to accept that our paths may never intertwine again, and that’s okay. Life has a way of guiding us through unexpected turns, and perhaps our separation is a necessary part of a greater journey. It’s time to redefine my sense of self, independent of the connection we once shared.
In saying goodbye, I am not only releasing you but also reclaiming the fragments of myself that I had willingly given. It’s a process of rediscovery, and I am committed to emerging from this stronger and more attuned to my own needs and desires.
As I conclude this letter, I want you to know that forgiveness is not just a gift I extend to you but, more importantly, one I give to myself. The bitterness that once lingered is replaced by gratitude for the experiences we shared and the growth that emerged from our separation.
Wishing you genuine happiness and fulfillment on your journey, as I embark on mine. May the lessons we’ve learned be stepping stones towards a brighter future.
With love, always.
Natalie
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