When You Realize You Lost Your Love

I can’t deny that I had the best times with you. You knew me more than any other person — my crazy quirks, my endless secrets, my stupid routines — everything. I have poured every inch of my being to you. I have loved you with all my heart.

I’m not writing this letter because I want to hurt you. I’m writing this because this is the only way I can repair myself. This is my way of mending the wounds you left; my way of filling the empty holes that are slowly consuming me — because the pain has to stop somehow.

Do you still remember? How fearful I was to get attached to you? I think that was our first real argument. I was so scared to have something so beautiful, that suddenly, I have something to lose. And then, the inevitable came. I lost the one thing I wanted the most — I lost you.

Some people may say you were the one who lost. I was the one who ended this, right? I was the one who called it quits. In situations more than I could count, I tried to convince myself that you were the one who lost something worth-holding on to.

But to tell you the truth? We both lost.

I lost the boy that I loved. I lost the person who made me the happiest. I lost the daily messages and the sweet phone calls. I lost the forehead kisses and the routinely walk-home’s. I lost the stupid movie marathons and the nightly pillow talks — and God knows how much I’ll miss them.

But I also started losing the sadness that came with loving you. I started losing the self-hate and the questions that always lingered my mind: Was I not enough? Am I doing something wrong? Do you not love me anymore? I started losing the tears that came every time I thought about you. One night, it just stopped. I could not cry about you anymore. I could not keep beating myself up just because you do not see my value.

I may have lost you, but I found myself in the process of doing so. So for that, I thank you.

I thank you for the broken promises, and the hurtful words. I thank you for the blatant excuses and the lies that came with them. I thank you for all the times you chose other people over me (and God knows how painful it is to be your least priority). I thank you for the inconsistency and the plans never made into action. I thank you for the days I spent locked inside my room, wondering if I did something wrong. I thank you for the heartbreak. It is indeed painful — more than I could ever put into words. But it helped me, somehow. So thank you.

I can’t lie. My heart still shatters every time I’m reminded of you. Hell, I’d still tear myself apart for you in a heartbeat. But I’m slowly learning to stop. My pen would always bleed your name, that’s the truth. You would always be a part of me. But someday — sooner, I hope — I’ll finally be able to let you go.

I loved you… maybe I still do.

But then again, the pain has to stop somehow. I always wished the best for you. But maybe the best for you does not include me — and I’m starting to learn how to live with that. I hope you do too.