I’m writing this for you to say goodbye, the goodbye we never really got because you said you couldn’t do it and in a way, goodbye never felt right for us. I always imagined we would stay friends. That one day you’d text me as if nothing had happened and maybe we’d meet for coffee and talk like we always had, two people with the same values in life.
I wish I could sit with you and talk about your love life and not feel an aching in my heart but of course, you can’t. I can’t.
I realize all of this. And I realized it again when I opened that box, the one where I kept all of the sentimental things I couldn’t throw away—every card, every photograph and every random note you or I left around the house. I sifted through them and remembered how much I did love you and how I honestly saw a future for us. The words you wrote warmed my heart and made me believe I was worth being loved. You did that. You made me believe I was worthy and even now, I cannot thank you enough for that.
But its time to let you go. And though you aren’t that person anymore — I hope you find the kind of love you deserve, the kind I was unable to give you. I hope you live all of those dreams you spoke so passionately of when our fingers danced together in each others palms.
I hope you don’t think of me, but I hope you know I’m so glad you were my first love. I’m so glad I got to spend those years with you and that love, that feeling of absolute euphoria. You will remain in the memory box, not touched by time or reality or the cruelness of the world.
Goodbye, old love. You can be free now.
