"Dear You,"

"I didn’t really know what to write… It seems dramatic and self-indulgent to want to say things so long after the fact — I should have just been an adult and gotten over it, right? I mean, isn’t that what marks the transition from petulant child to wise, well-balanced adult: the ability to recognize when something is over and accept that you can’t change it? As with many things in my life, I guess I sometimes walk around with the frayed strings of what we broke off — words I didn’t say…"

"I wish you could see me now. I know it sounds silly, but I wish you could look at the progress I’ve made in my life and the adult that I’m becoming. I feel like I was so much younger when we broke up, even though it wasn’t that long ago…"

"…Since then, though, I’ve figured out that running around in circles trying to change people isn’t going to help anyone, and that the only person I can actually change is myself. I want you to understand that I don’t hate you, I hated the person that you were with me. But I also hated the person I was with you. We were like this awful poison coursing through each other’s veins; I was addicted to the feeling of being mad at someone, of fighting and makeup sex, of being righteously indignant and having a bone to pick. I was sick."

"When I say that I want you to be happy, I mean it. We’re used to thinking that no one can just move on from a lost love and genuinely want the other person to find happiness somewhere else in life, but I do. It’s taken a while, but I’ve finally realized that we were simply not right for each other — and that no amount of fighting and then tearfully telling each other how much we loved each other was going to erase those fundamental differences. You deserve to be with someone who makes you feel good about who you are, with whom you can be utterly yourself and not worry that your mere existence is going to step on their toes. When it’s right, it’s right, and after spending so long trying to fit a jagged piece into the puzzle with me, you should be able to just feel the ease of a good match."

"I do think about you sometimes, though. I think about what you’re doing, who you’ve become without me, what parts of your personality have risen to the top or almost faded away now that I am no longer a daily influence on your life. I guess it’s kind of selfish to center so many of my questions about you around our relationship, but you have to understand that I only knew you in one context — and I want to know you outside of it. I want to see you as a happy, untethered adult who has gotten out of the toxic partnership we had together and learned how to be happy and full. I am no longer tricking myself into thinking that we should have made it work (or that it was even a possibility), and the mourning period of your loss has passed. It’s more now a quiet sadness about the love that has disappeared from my life. We knew each other so well, and meant so much to each other, and now we don’t speak at all. It’s as though all of those moments we lived together have just evaporated behind us, and that seems such a shame. I don’t want you back, but I want to be able to talk to you — does that make me weird?"

"Maybe if you’re free one day, we could get a cup of coffee. We could sit and talk about all of the funny things… the things we used to talk about doing but never ended up getting to. It would be nice to feel that all of that love wasn’t meant to just be destroyed by the window of ugliness we experienced towards the end. There were still good things to take out of our love, so much that I learned. I hope you learned, too. I hope that you can look back and see things about us that make you smile, that remind you how much fun it could be, even if we weren’t soulmates. I hope you understand that I will always care for you, in the way one might a distant friend you’ve lost touch with but still long to laugh with every so often. And I hope you’re well. I hope you’re living life the way you wanted to, and have gained enough perspective to know, as I know, that something doesn’t have to last forever to have value.

"You were my first love… A part of me will always love you for that and I hope you’ll always love me, too."

"Love, Me.”



One day it all kind of just made sense to him - how she sinks quietly into his arms after a long day, raves about books that he could never wrap his head around; that one time she randomly kidnapped him from the office to buy beer and go to the zoo and eat cheap cake and kiss in the halls of a musky-smelling museum while no one was looking. Why she burst into tears over dinner and why she always seemed to be in better moods when the sky’s sprinkled with more stars than the mind could ever hold.

One day it all kind of just made sense to him - that day he lost her - and just then did he grow deeply, and irrevocably lost in love with she that was no longer his.