I was reading thought catalog and saw something to this effect on it. I expected it to be more of a ceremonious goodbye rather than a spew of how badly the exes suck. Anyway, I stopped reading a third way through because it was so negative and I decided to write my own.
To my dear ex-boyfriend,
You broke my heart.
I remember one night when all the housemates had gone out to dinner. You stayed at home with me. We were fresh into our relationship and as a way of opening up more to you, I ceremoniously opened up my journal to you. It to me at that point was akin to bearing my naked soul to you. There lay my thoughts about the boy before you, my anxieties, and my feelings for you. You read it and loved me. I showed you the brokenness of my soul and you did not leave.
One night, you told me your little secret you never told anyone. One that you carried with you since you were a boy. You were vulnerable and afraid I’d think you were odd. Instead, I loved you so much more for it. It brought us closer and we now both share a secret that I’d probably will take to the grave.
We were incredibly close and being with you felt like you were a part of me. It sounds so cliche doesn’t it? But that’s what you were, your feelings and thoughts were just as important to me as my feelings and thoughts. Your insecurities and pain were my insecurities and pain. Your fingers were made to be intertwined with my fingers. Your lips on my lips were as if they were moulded to be together. Together we felt right.
I still remember the way you looked at me and the way you made me feel vividly even though we were such a long time ago. You made me feel wanted, beautiful and talented. You believed in me and saw both the good and bad that I thought I had hidden so well.
But alas, all good things must come to an end. The heart I gave you was broken and with it such great pain followed. As much as I try to paint you out to be the villain in my head, I know your heart ached so deeply too.
It was strange how the wave of ease that is us hit me so hard the first time we met after breakup. We loved each other and no amount of time will take that away. Tears flowed as for a year we talked about our feelings and relived the past. You confessed one night in a small broken voice about whether it was possible to find another like me. A girl who would love you and accept you for who you were. I told you I was right here waiting to love you again. The temptation to come right over, to see each other was terribly great, yet neither of us yielded.
On the day you broke up with me, I asked whether we will ever be friends, desperate to cling on to any piece of you that I could. You said you could see yourself coming over with a six pack of our favourite beer and sitting on the balcony and talking like old friends.
It’s been more than two years, and honestly, my darling, I know that’s not going to happen. I have moved on so far with my life and I’m sure you with yours, that the idea of driving myself back into the past seems almost madness. We are strangers now. The man I loved and hoped to share a future with is gone. You may look like him, but you are not the same man I loved just as I am not the same woman you loved. The love that we shared for each other still exists, but since neither of us are who we were, the love will never be revived.
I loved you so much, you appreciated my quirkiness and made me feel special and seen. Our story is incredibly painful. It’s beautiful but absurdly messy. I regret nothing.
Microhaemorrhages 