Dear M,
Thank you for your message. It was beautiful. It was warm. It was full of love. But it was also the softest version of a goodbye I’ve ever received.
I see now what I didn’t want to see then:
You were already gone. And you wrapped your exit in gratitude, hoping I wouldn’t notice.
You said I was your peace, your first, your mirror. That I helped shape you. And maybe I did. But you left while I was still building myself—at the part where love demands patience, presence, and raw honesty.
Instead of facing the friction, the imperfection, the becoming—you tapped out. Not loudly, not cruelly, but quietly. Like a ghost with a kind heart.
Maybe I was too much. Maybe I was too intense, too anxious, too deep in the weeds of figuring my life out. But I was never fake. I never gave you less than my real self. Even when that self was messy.
And maybe that’s what scared you.
You didn’t leave a stranger.
You left a man who was breaking himself down to rebuild.
You left a man who would never have betrayed you.
And one day, when the noise fades and your world quiets—you’ll remember that. Not because I need you to, but because truth has gravity.
I don’t hate you. I don’t even resent you.
But I’ve stopped romanticizing the version of us where you stay.
This is me moving forward—not because I want to forget, but because I finally understand:
Love without clarity is just emotional residue. And I’m not living in leftovers anymore.
—Walty
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