I don’t know how to start this.
You’ve been such a huge part of my life for the better part of three years. You’ve been so many things to me. It’s because of you that I’ve opened my heart for the first time since moving here. You’ve given me the love and support I needed to try new things, experience a side of me – and a side of life – I may otherwise not have known.
It hasn’t been a perfect three years. They’ve been filled with exceptional highs; incredible feelings of love. They’ve also had their incredible heart breaks; agonizing lows. I’ve felt pulled to your magnetic north, and wanted to walk away forever, every minute you’ve been in my life. It’s been exhausting. Yet, somehow, entirely worth it.
We’ve most certainly hurt each other. We’ve cut each other off time and time again for the chance to pursue something else. Something better? I assume it hurt you as it hurt me. It left me in a ball of tears on the kitchen floor. It was another nail in the coffin of our doomed relationship. It poked at my bruised heart.
But for all of our ups and downs, we’ve always landed on the same page. Following along in our story together. It seemed unlikely: you and I. It seemed ridiculous and wrong. But it always felt right. We morphed and changed and continued to find ways to make the pieces fit.
These days, we’re on very different pages. Or maybe we’re reading the same page with two very different sets of eyes. It’s probably that. Either way, we’re out of sync. Our friendship and relationship seems to have different reasons. Different foundations. Different purposes.
This time, though, I’m not on the kitchen floor in a ball of emotion. I’m not feeling bruised. I think I’ve outgrown our puzzle. We’ve continued to morph, but no longer simultaneously together.
We no longer have a place in each other’s life. I know this because in the time that’s passed, I haven’t longed for you. I haven’t craved “us.”
You’ve always said you have more life experience than I do, and that while you’re done growing and learning (which is no way to go through the second half of your life,) I have growth to do and so much to learn.
I’m not angry. I’m not mad. I’m not even upset. I am sad to say that I feel content. And, as it turns out, you were right. I never doubted you. I just never expected to outgrow “us.”
I had wanted to tell you in person that I don’t think we want the same things anymore – or at least our reasons are different. I wanted to know that future-you wasn’t going to ask me “why.” I wanted to read our final page together and consciously end our story; close our book. Know together that our story and experience has been written, and will forever be important, but its been told.
But, again, we seem to be on different pages. So I’ll close the cover myself and know that I wrote the best I could. I’ll consider our three years to be a time that I learned more about myself and my ability to love in all forms. I’ll consider it my lesson in letting go. I’ll consider it a beautiful (sometimes tumultuous) story and move on to the next.
I just wanted you to know that this hyphenated word hasn’t come about lightly. That it’s not reactionary. It’s not because of something you did or did not do. It’s just time to say it.