a letter i'd hate to send

hi.

i still really love you.

i know.

it’s been four fucking years and yet something keeps me coming back. 

and by something, i mean everything. i think i left a piece of myself with you when you left, though i can’t imagine leaving was your choice. in this letter, and in the stories i tell myself, i rack my brain trying to figure out where i went wrong. i must have. you can’t have. 

this could be the issue. i have spent so much time hanging onto you that i’ve started to rewrite our history, giving you the benefit of every doubt i’ve had. it’s a reflex at this point, telling everyone and myself that you were never the problem.

that you didn’t drop my hand and look away, tell me that maybe we needed space. that you didn’t stop texting, calling, that my sister didn’t stop asking about you. that i gave you the berth and time and everything you wanted and more. i guess it didn’t matter.

i wonder if i still matter to you. if you get chills when you hear my name, ask our best friend how i am quarterly, avoid anyone who looks like me on the street. 

don’t answer that.

don’t answer any of this. pretend i never wrote this letter and torch it before you open it. ignore my subsequent calls and texts. this is more for me than it will ever be for you. you don’t need this.

you don’t need me.

that’s hard to swallow.

anyways, merry christmas.

me

xoxo