Tonight I wrote a letter.
My mind wasn’t clear and my heart was hurting. I knew something needed to happen because if I kept it inside i knew it would drive me mad.
I sat down, pen and paper in hand. And I wrote to you.
I wrote about how good it was and how much I use to miss that. I also wrote about how bad it got.
I expressed how much I tried to always be strong enough for you, even when you told me I wasn’t. Or when you would tell me about how much I didn’t understand you and how I would try to comfort you and tell that you I did. I wrote about how I would hug you even when you would ignore me.
I admitted my faults too. I wrote about how I went to get therapy for being so angry and all those times I begged you to come with me. Or when I started getting acupuncture, and again, begged you to come with me. I wrote you and told you that it really hurt me that you never tried.
I wrote some more about the good times, because that’s what I’ll choose to keep in mind when I think of you. But I also wrote about how I wouldn’t let that cloud my mind of all the pain you’ve caused me. I also said that I wouldn’t stay angry at you.
I wrote about how much it hurt to lose you and the way it all went down. About how much it hurt to try everything to save it with zero reciprocation.
I wrote to you about forgiving myself for letting you back in again. I’m still in the process of forgiving myself for getting angry at you. For calling you names and saying that I never want to see you again. I’m forgiving myself for causing my own pain.
Tonight I wrote a letter that I’ll never give to you. I wrote in it details that I’ll never repeat to another soul. When I finished the letter, I ripped it up and threw it away. And with it, I threw away every bad feeling, every painful memory, and all the heartache that I haven’t processed.
Tonight I wrote a letter. Tonight I forgave you, and tonight I let you go.