***The social anxiety part of me says that I need to put a disclaimer before the following letter because, to me, it sounds so serious.  Don’t worry, no one died, and I’m not quitting writing.  I don’t want to make anyone feel bad. This letter is just something that I needed to write.***


I’d address this letter to you, but I know it won’t be read by you.  I can’t claim that I don’t think about you often.  And I miss you more than words can say.  Most of me understands that I’ll never have you back, but part of me still believes that I can.

I often find my mind drifting to the past.  I think about the times when everything seemed great.  Happiness seemed abundant, and the future was full of infinite possibilities, nearly all of them good.

It’s hard to imagine a good future without you.  I try, and I can almost see the promise of what could be ahead, but mostly, it’s just a silhouette.  I still have the hopes and dreams that I had before, but they seem murky now.  They are muted and abstract.  The past is clear, but the future has become utterly uncertain.

Then there are times that I’m mad at you.  Perhaps you were naive.  There were several times when you were ungrateful.  The thought that what was could last forever clouded thoughts and judgement, and so much time was wasted.  Sure, you did good things, but I can’t help but think you could’ve done more.

Even when I have these thoughts, even when I feel a burning anger, I still long for those days.  I try to remember all of the things, good and bad, about you.  I hold tight to the memories of events and feelings.  As time passes, they fade, and I lose my sense of you.  Just as you disappeared from my life, I fear you are dissapearing from my memory.

I’ve thought of trying again.  Of going back, and seeing what, if anything, I could recapture.  Sometimes it feels like I want to go back more than anything.

But I can’t.

Even if I tried to recreate the circumstances that led to you, it wouldn’t work.  I’m different now.  And no matter how close I got to getting everything back the way it was, it would never really be the same.  It may be close, but in my memory, it’s perfect.  And no reality could ever live up to perfection.

I have to let you go.  My brain tells me that the future will be okay, that life goes on.  I know it does.  But holding on to you is holding me back.  Maybe I can’t make out the details of my future because I’m so desperately trying to hold on to the past.  If I’m to ever find peace, I know that I have to allow the fog of time wash over me and take your memory from my mind.

I’ll never regret you.  At the moment, you seem like you were the best part of my life so far.  I’ll never forget the things you taught me or what you showed me about myself.  That part of you lives on in my heart, and time can’t touch it there.

I deeply hope that I never have to write this letter again.  There’s every possibility that I will.  I’ve been through this time and again, but I’ve never felt so impacted by it before.  Perhaps the next letter will be a love letter.  Or a goodbye to this part of my life that seems full of hopelessness and gloom.  Maybe my next letter will be the one I write when everything gets back on track.

I hope so.

Until then, I’ll try to remember to let you go.

Goodbye, Past Me.

Present Me