I'm writing this, because it's the only way I can find peace with you.

Dear H,

I loved you. I really did. You were my first serious boyfriend. You were my first Fourth of July fireworks. My first take-home-to-meet-the-parents beau. My first requited love. You were my first. And I know we told each other that no matter what happened, we would remain friends. But seriously, who were we kidding? There is just too much history between us to maintain a genuine friendship right now. You've been a part of me, you've replaced a part of me for the past four years, and now that we're apart, I'm beginning to miss the person I once was when I was without you. And I'm slowly starting to reclaim that person, but I can't do it in your presence.

I feel heavy, weighed down around you, even just at the thought of you. I question the choices I made, the things I could have changed to make it work, the things I did to drive you away. For a long time since we broke up, these thoughts would have whispered in my ear and would have told me to call you again, to want to hear your voice, to want to be in your arms. For a long time, I could not fathom a life without you in it. But now, I realize that it's not me, it's you. I was doing almost everything right. Granted, we all make mistakes, but I have to stop blaming myself for what went wrong in our relationship. I don't want to point fingers at you, but for all the years I've known you, you have never taken any kind of responsibility for your actions. Well, you're almost a quarter of a century old, and it's about time you grow up and carry some of your own weight.

And even though I can't completely say that my scars have fully healed, I can say that while the thought of you is still painful, I no longer need to reach for that phone. I no longer need your voice, your arms to reassure me that I can survive through this anguish.

Perhaps it wasn't meant to be. Perhaps, I misinterpreted our first night together. Perhaps the police officers who pulled up next to your blue Scooby-doo-ish van were the angels trying to warn me that you weren't the one. Perhaps, I needed to experience my life with you, to realize that I didn't need you to live a full, happy life.

I think the thing that scares me the most is the realization that I have to go on from here, to move forward from here. Everything is so uncertain now, and this anxiety is probably the most painful part of the break up.

I'm not going to be bitter. I'm not going to burn our photos or donate the presents you gave me. I won't even pawn the jewelry you bought as anniversary presents, which I always contemplate doing whenever you get me angry. No, I'm not going to be bitter. You hurt me, that's a fact, but you also did love me. We did love each other at one point if I'm bitter now, I'm basically telling myself that my four years with you was a waste. And it wasn't. I learned a lot about you, a lot about myself, a lot about life that I will always carry with me.

We can't be at peace with ourselves, with the world, if we don't know how to forgive and let go of the anger and the pain at the same time. So I'm writing you this letter, to let you know that I care and that I'm not angry or in unfathomable pain. I'm writing to let you know that I'm healing. And you will probably never read this, but it's ok, because I think you already know.

Love,
Me