M,
For four years, I believed in us. I believed that what we built meant something. That everything we went through—the highs, the struggles, the nights spent talking about our fears—was real. I believed that love wasn’t just a feeling but something that stayed, something worth fighting for.
But you? You left like none of it mattered.
You didn’t explain. You didn’t face me with honesty. You just distanced yourself, made it my responsibility to ask what was wrong, and when I did, you acted like you owed me nothing. Like I was just another part of your life you could erase when it was no longer convenient.
I asked if you still loved me. You said, “I see you as my best friend.” That was all it took for you. Four years, reduced to a sentence. That’s when I knew—we never saw love the same way.
For me, love wasn’t just about feeling good in the moment. It was about staying—even when it got hard, even when doubt crept in, even when life wasn’t perfect. But for you, love had an expiration date. The moment the spark faded, you let go.
And the worst part? It wasn’t just that you left. It was how you left.
You didn’t have the courage to sit with the wreckage. You didn’t have the respect to face what you were doing. You just shut down, got cold, avoided responsibility. I had to be the one to pull the truth out of you. And when I asked for closure, you dismissed me like my pain was inconvenient.
I lost myself after that. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I lost weight, lost confidence, lost the belief that what we had was ever real. I tried to move forward, but I was walking through life as someone else. And the truth is, I never really recovered.
Months passed. Years passed. And it still felt raw. Even as time moved on, the betrayal lingered. I carried the weight of it long after you were gone. I could function, I could pretend, I could even try to rebuild—but I was never the same. What you did left a scar so deep that even now, I still feel it. It changed me.
But the universe, in all its cruelty, gave me one saving grace.
Paul.
When you left, he stayed. When I had no one, he was the one person who didn’t pull away, didn’t minimize my pain, didn’t treat me like I was disposable. He listened, without judgment. He didn’t try to distract me from my grief—he sat in it with me. He helped me understand what happened when I couldn’t make sense of it myself.
Paul showed me what real loyalty looks like. What real connection is. What it means to have someone who won’t leave when things are hard. He was the proof that deep bonds exist.
And then, life took him too.
The one person who reminded me that love and friendship could still be real—that not everyone is like you—was gone. And so now, I stand here alone.
And you?
I looked at your life years later. I wanted to believe that you had changed. That maybe, deep down, the sweet person I thought you were still existed. That time had shaped you, softened you, made you reflect on who you were and what you left behind. I wanted to believe this so I could find an excuse to forgive you.
But your social projections proved me wrong. The cycle remains the same. The same need for validation, the same performance, the same shallow chase for external approval. You kept moving, but you never grew. You never went deeper. You never looked back.
Maybe you’ll never realize what you did. Maybe you’ll never understand the weight of your actions. I don’t know if you even remember me the way I remember you. I don’t know if my suffering ever crossed your mind in the years that passed. But for me? This wasn’t just a chapter I closed. It’s a weight I’ve carried every single day. Maybe you’ll go through life thinking you were innocent, that you just followed your heart, that you did nothing wrong.
But one day, you’ll feel the loss of real love.
And if that day ever comes, maybe you’ll understand what it’s like to be left with wounds that never fully heal. But it will be too late. Because you can’t undo the damage. You can’t rewrite the past. And I will never get back what you took from me.
And yet, after all these years, I still carry this. I still feel the injustice of it all, the way you walked away without consequence, the way life let you escape while I was left drowning in the wreckage. I never got my justice. And maybe I never will. I wanted justice. I wanted an apology. But people like you don’t offer closure, because closure requires courage.
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