Dear friend who use to be mine,

You probably won’t ever read this. The people who do read it will, unfortunately, know it’s about you.

We didn’t really say goodbye until this past weekend. As you know, sometimes when I handle things I need to be left alone. It’s just me. Because of social media and the “connected” 21st century, we are never actually going to stop seeing reminders of each other. So I took measures to have distance. To only show you what I needed. I’m sorry that because of it, I hurt you. I’m sorry your pictures of me and you are gone.

Our mistake was that we thought we were living in a movie. I thought being in a relationship was about doing EVERYTHING you could to put the other first. Placing your life and responsibilities on hold. Like in the ending scene before the credits, the couple gets together because they abandoned everything to be with the other. You can’t do that with everything.

The thing is, love isn’t a movie. I figured out love isn’t about changing everything you are for someone. It’s about being who you are and someone loving all of it & dealing with the irritating parts. Not expecting you to change.

Love is about knowing who you are in God and what you want in life. It’s about being strong people who understand we only need God’s love. Finding someone to go through life with is just butter cream icing on the gluten-filled cake.

We waited till our 20’s to find someone. It was perfect, monumental, and then it exploded. No matter what I write or say you will never know how much I tried everything I could to make you happy. You will never know how much I tried to change or how much you mean to me.

You probably don’t have anything left that reminds you of me. I made you mad and hurt you. I know that. I hate that. I miss Sunday afternoon couch naps & late night chats. I miss making you get well kits, funny faces, sharing secrets, and your sweatshirt.

I don’t regret you. I only regret waiting till 21 to have to get over someone. I hate that someone is you. I regret that we didn’t work. That I didn’t work for you. That I didn’t make you as happy as you imagined or deserved.

Maybe it’s wrong to write something here. Maybe it’s airing my life for strangers to read. Maybe I really hope you do read this.

I love you.
P.S. you’re still my favorite.

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