journal · letter

It’s Time

My Dear,

I heard you were back. I went rushing to see you. To see if you would speak to me. I ran, I jumped, I flew. I have never moved so fast or so fervently in my life. But I missed you. By a single moment, I missed you. I missed you and I miss you. I may always. But I realized something, as the rush subsided and the weight of reality crept back into my being; I finally understood. I cannot go back. To that place, that time-trap where I dwelt for so long, ever waiting, hopelessly hoping, trammeled by unfulfilled longing, stifled by a need for release. That even if I could, I shouldn’t. Because at some point, enough must be enough. I can cry and fight and try until it kills me, but if you make no move, if your response is always inaction, it is meaningless. Yes, I made a mistake. But it is not all that I am. And it’s time that I forgive myself for it. I followed the path of my soul with quiet, enduring courage, even when all of logic shouted violently against it, when hope was nothing more than a corrupt apparition, distant and elusive, taunting my every step. I followed my heart into ruin, wholeheartedly and passionately. Did what many people would not even dare to imagine as a possibility, in the name of my love for you. Proved unequivocally that I am worthy of forgiveness, redemption… love. And it’s time to step out on the other side, into freedom, into this overwhelming sense of peace that comes from fighting for what you believe is worth it.

I said that I would always love you, and I will. But this is the last time I will speak of it. I’ve probably worn the words out more than I have apologies, anyway. I wrapped up my heart in a simple letter, an awkward kiss, and three little goodbyes on your doorstep. And that is where it should stay. Perhaps, in some other time or reality, we may meet again, and things will go so, so very differently. Anything is possible. But on this day, in this time, I am letting it all go. It’s time to move out from behind the shadow of your perpetual silence. Move forward and be free of this. Free to be an enemy, free to be a friend, free to be anything or nothing at all to you. Simply free. And completely, entirely me. I can’t really ask for more than that, my dear. And honestly, I don’t want to. None of this may ever have meaning to you. I don’t know, as I can no longer presume to discern your thoughts, desires, or cares. But even so, it still means something. Because someone, somewhere, someday, may think upon my words and realize this: any wish, every dream, is worth trying for. Because even if you fail, although your hopes may not be actualized in reality, you will not walk away empty handed. Something learned is always something gained. And when you know that you’ve tried in every way you possibly could, you can’t ever be haunted by “what ifs.” I am free of regret. Will you be able to say the same, in the end? I honestly, sincerely hope so.

Eerie

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