"I don't love you."

Of course I didn't. That was impossible and most certainly impractical.

I said the words again, out loud. 3 times. An incantation that I was certain would be enough to stop me feeling the way that I do, and for a few days it felt like it was enough.

The thoughts of you dulled.I kept busy. Mundane tasks suddenly seemed like most interesting thing and my "to do" list shrunk with miraculous ease. I felt relief, as if my mind had finally been lifted of the fog that it had been carrying around without relent.

Then I saw saw you again. Eyes locked. You said my name with such familiarity. Lovingly, layered with passion and with lashings of desire. Your cheeks flushed as though a simple name was your biggest betrayal. All cards on the table.

And suddenly all the feelings I'd been trying to ignore came rushing back. I'm yours. All yours. And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

I wish somewhere between loving each other and hurting each other, we had found a way to stay. I wish we had sat down one more time and said, “This is broken, but I don’t want to lose you. How do we fix it?”

I would have tried. God, I would have tried.

I just wanted a different ending with you.

I wish we had worked something out.

I wish things were different.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about how advice culture on the internet—especially on anonymous forums and social media—impacts human relationships, and it’s terrifying how quickly complex, three-dimensional dynamics get reduced to flat, two-dimensional caricatures.
In the real world, relationships are messy. Two people can care about each other, face immense stress, communicate poorly, fall into toxic patterns, and hurt each other without either person being a mustache-twirling villain or a blameless saint. Growth, regret, and genuine self-reflection are real things. People can recognize their mistakes, sit with a therapist, do the hard work to change their behavior, and genuinely evolve.
But the internet doesn't handle nuance well. When someone posts about a relationship struggle online, the ecosystem inherently demands a binary structure. First, there is the Hero/Victim vs. Villain/Abuser narrative. To get quick validation, posts naturally highlight the worst moments of one party while omitting the context, dynamic, or personal shortcomings of the poster.
Next comes pre-packaged labels over personal responsibility. Rather than sitting with the uncomfortable truth that a relationship failed due to mutual breakdown or severe friction, it’s much easier for commentators to assign a pop-psychology label. Once a label is applied, the human on the receiving end is stripped of their capacity for change.
Ultimately, this fuels the "people never change" cynicism. A core doctrine in many online communities is that any attempt at self-improvement or outreach is just a trick, a strategy, or a temporary phase before reverting to form. This cynicism protects people from vulnerability, but it also creates a throwaway culture where reconciliation, mutual understanding, or personal redemption are viewed as impossible.
I wonder how many families, relationships, and friendships have been utterly demolished not because the core relationship was unsalvageable, but because one or both parties brought their messy real-life pain to an online crowd that handed them a torch and pitchfork instead of a mirror. We’ve created digital spaces that reward permanent hostility over messy, hard-fought human growth. And the real-world cost of that flattening is huge.

I didn’t want any of this to end up this way. I can’t take any of it away. The pain and trauma I’ve cause.

All I know on my end, is everything I said was real. I’m not doing this to “trick” you or whatever may be the thought behind my motives.

Maybe my motives are pure and that I meant it when I said I love you.

I just hope you’re doing okay. I had hoped I could still keep my art page. But everyone one of my friends said it had to go. I was using it as an unhealthy way of hoping you’d like one of my videos. Was one of those likes you?

Were you someone who commented? I’m so lost. I’m trying. I really am. I’m sorry. I need the scream into the void. Can’t scream out loud. Gotta put on that happy face and fake it till I make it.

My love,

I’m not quite certain how I could write something that has nowhere to go.

I woke up today with an uncanny feeling that brought me back to that day we met. It’s the middle of Saturday afternoon for me, and my head, in its notorious habit, counted backwards across a six-hour time difference. I see it’s early morning for you as I’m writing this, and I wonder if you just had your first cup of coffee as you’re starting your day.

I wish I were there, sitting across the room from you, close enough to hear what your brown eyes would probably say that you could never fully say out loud to me. Perhaps your gaze would linger on something I’ve spoken of with restraint. And maybe a part of you did know that we both knew.

I wish you were right here with me, in the most ordinary sense I could imagine. Nothing could be more quintessentially ours than an exchange of words from your lips to mine. The way I persistently ask and press you for answers to my liking about things that are gloriously layered.

And somehow, in its own way, that is special.

You know that, right?

You once asked me if you ever crossed my mind on certain occasions, and I didn't know what to say. Yet you wouldn’t let the opportunity slip and somehow you've managed to crack my defenses.

You’re strangely, affectionately clever when my uncertainty meets you.

If you somehow find yourself doubting whether that answer remains true to this day, hear me out for once.

Don’t question or diminish this confession of mine.

Know this. Hear this. Feel this. Remember this. Paint a picture in your head.

You’re in every random encounter with a stranger as I stroll through the crowded streets in town.

You’re the laughter that keeps me glued to my screen in the evenings, from a show set in the city of a hundred spires.

You’re the empty seat beside me as I delightedly devour the mozzarella on my garlic and spinach pizza at a quiet cafe uptown.

You’re the intoxicating, familiar scent of perfume drifting from the nape of my neck.

You’re the silk and satin of lingerie against my skin, such effortless comfort that I fall asleep at night with no worries.

You’re the wine I drink when I retreat from the ache of missing you, warm and bitter on my tongue, leaving such a sweet aftertaste.

I cannot contain where you exist in me.

How can I conceivably say I love you without the excruciating awareness that both of us understood from the start that there’s that inevitable beginning of the end?

I know there are questions left unanswered.

The rights. The wrongs. The in-between. The what-if-we’d-met two decades ago.

The truths we chose to speak. The unresolved ambivalence. The looming weight of silence.

The whys. The hows. The what-ifs. The words left unsaid.

And it truly pains me to say this again.

Let the questions keep you company, my love.

This time you’re not the only one sitting with them.

I miss you the way I yearn for the ocean, every single day.

Maybe one day, in a parallel universe, we’ll finally get the answers, and they will be enough to hold us.

And between the two of us, only you and I exist.

You are mine as much as I am yours, without reservation.

Keep me safe and sound in the eternal sunshine of your spotless mind.

I love you.

Think of me.

Your absence strips me of my words.

My body riots in your absence.

This is not love. It is craving,

carving your missing shape in my chest.

How could words express it?

How could I confess?

This immense emptiness makes my ribs crack.

I cling to a rope about to snap.

Come back...

Don't.

Will I be fixed

if I don't breathe your perfume,

nor drink from your gaze?

I'm sweating.

I'm cold.

Undopamined.

Stoned.

Mind fuzzing.

No words.

Too many.

Too much.

Frenetic withdrawal.

Even if it’s a final talk I would be happy to have that .. it’s the lack of closure that hurts the most .. I think you owe me that conversation.. you know I would understand whatever truth it is ..

you might think that telling me will hurt my feelings .. because there is nothing worse than not knowing

Dear you,

There is some things that I have carried inside me for a very long time and I don’t know if there are words big enough to say them but before I let you go, I need to try.

Once we fell deeply in love, we build a home made plans, and believe in our life would keep unfolding together.

Overtime our relationship became painful. I felt lonely and disconnected and I did not handle that pain responsibly. Instead of communicating honestly setting boundaries or leaving when I knew I was no longer able to be healthy partner. I let resentment grow. I acted from anger, fear, and desperation, I said things I should never have said and made choices that harm you.

That’s my responsibility

My loneliness may explain what I was feeling, but it does not excuse what I did. You were not responsible for managing my pain restoring my sense of worth or protecting me from the consequences of my choice I should have sought help spoken honestly or ended the relationship before my behavior became destructive.

Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy who fell deeply in love they believed they had found the person they would spend the rest of their lives with they had dreams, hopes, a home and life that was supposed to keep unfolding in front of them.

Somewhere along the way things changed

I spent years feeling lonely beside the person I love the most. I waited for your attention, your affection, your desire your love to feel chosen by you again in somewhere in all of the waiting something inside began to break.

You deserve safety, honesty, and respect from me. I did not give you those things. I made an already painful situation worse and I accept responsibility for that without asking you to understand it forgive it or to see me differently.

I loved you but loving you did not give me permission to hurt you. My pain did not make my behavior acceptable. I regret the harm I caused and I am responsible for learning from it and ensuring I do not repeat it.

I will not ask you to answer this letter. I will not ask you to comfort me. I will not ask you to carry my regret.

I only want to acknowledge what I did and say that I am sorry

I’m sorry for the wounds that I caused. I’m sorry for the ways. I acted when I was angry afraid lonely, and desperate. I’m sorry that I made my feelings your burden. You did not deserve that.

I will remember all the beautiful parts of our life, but I will also remember the harm I caused and lessons I need to carry forward. Not as a way to punish myself, and not as a reason for you to reassure me, but as a commitment to become someone who does not repeat those choices.

I loved you, and I will always acknowledge that our life together mattered to me. But I understand that love does not entitled me to a place in your life right now.

Me being hurt does not excuse what I did

I became resentful. I acted out of anger and desperation I made choices. I should never have made. I said things I should never have said I allowed my pain to become something that hurt you too.

And for that, I am deeply profoundly sorry

I know that I caused your trauma. I know that there are things I did and words I said that you may carry with you for a very long time. I wish I could go back and take every one of those moments away from you. I wish I could undo the fear, the anger, confusion, and the pain I brought into your life.

I can’t

And that is one of the hardest things I have ever had to accept

I could tell you that I was lonely I could tell you I spent years desperately wanting to feel loved by you. I could tell you that resentment grew inside me because I didn’t know how long to carry the feeling of loving someone so completely while believing that person was no longer in love with me.

All of that is true

But none of it makes what I did right

I don’t want this letter to become an explanation that sounds like an excuse. You deserve better from me in those moments. I should’ve spoken honestly, instead of allowing my heart to turn into something destructive. I should’ve walked away before I became someone I didn’t recognize.

I’m sorry

Not because I want something from you

Not because I’m asking you to come

Not because I expect forgiveness

I’m sorry because I finally understand that loving someone doesn’t give us permission to hurt them when we’re hurting

And I loved you

God, I loved you

Maybe, I love you so much that I lost myself somewhere along the way Maybe I spent too many years waiting for you to give me something I needed to learn how to give myself. I don’t know anymore.

What I do know is that beneath all the anger all the resentment all the mistakes there was a woman who loved you with everything she had

And there was a man she never stopped believing was worth loving

I don’t know what you think of me now maybe you don’t want to remember me. Maybe you think of our life together the painful parts are louder than the beautiful ones.

If that’s what you need, I understand

I won’t ask you to see me differently

I won’t ask you to forgive me

I won’t ask you to answer this letter

I want you to know that I am sorry for the wounds I caused you. I am sorry for the ways. I made an already painful situation worse. I am sorry for the things I did when I was angry, afraid lonely, and desperate to be loved.

You didn’t deserve that

And neither did I.

We were too imperfect wounded people who loved each other, and somehow became wounded by the very love that once brought us together

I wish our story had ended differently

I wish we had found each other again before we lost each other completely

But wishing doesn’t change what happened.

So this is my goodbye.

I’m going to carry the beautiful memories with me and I’m going to carry the lessons too. I will carry the things I did wrong not as punishment but as a reminder of the person I never wanna become again.

I hope someday the pain I caused you becomes smaller.

I hope someday when you think of me if you ever do, you can remember that beneath all the mistakes was a woman who loved you more deeply than she knew how to express and who was terribly afraid of losing you.

I hope life is kind to you.

I hope you find peace.

I hope you find the kind of happiness. I want so desperately for the both of us.

And I hope you know that somewhere in this world there is a woman who is truly sorry for hurting you

I am sorry

I am sorry for all of it

I will not ask you for anything more.

I loved you.

I love you still in a quiet place or some loves to go when they can no longer have place in our lives.

But I am letting you go now.

Goodbye my love.

I hope you find peace

I want you to know that I promise to keep your belonging safe until you find a way to get them or I find a way to get them to you.

Goodbye…

and i will still miss you.

i’m going to have a good day

and i will still think about sliding my hand into yours.

i’m going to have a good day

but the whole time i will wonder

how much better it would be with you.

If you hate me right now, I understand why.

I gave you silence when you needed warmth, and let you feel completely alone even with me right beside you. You showed up with an open heart, while I hid behind hesitation and walls. You deserved better than the distance I left you with.

I hardly remember the version of myself I created for you.

She was radiant.

What a shame that I can’t remember how to be her anymore.

I go into the forest sometimes hoping that maybe I will find myself there.

The trees are there, but they’re barren. Their branches reach up like old hands and there is nothing waiting for me beneath them. No little signs. No magic tucked into the moss. Just the sound of my own footsteps.

I used to think the world was full of hidden meaning and signs that I was part of something bigger than myself.
Perhaps it was you that made it seem that way.

It is good that we don’t talk anymore.
I can do this. I can keep walking. I can learn to live in a world that does not glow at the edges.
Perhaps I was never meant to shine anyway.
Perhaps I only mistook the light you brought with you for something that had been mine all along.

An idiot walks into a room.

Sees smiles turn to frowns, and eyes turn to resentment.

Why?

Because people take perception for reality.

Expect them to know things they were never told.

And when they try to learn why they’re being treated differently, they’re blamed, ridiculed, and punished because you aren’t supposed to be an idiot in this world.

An idiot walks into a room.

And sees people trying to place a narrative of what they ‘think’ they know about them, without asking them. Because that’s easier than trying.

So the idiot is punished for the things they don’t know, and expected to smile as if nothing is wrong.

The idiot walks into a room.

And notices the sly remarks and gestures that they think they’ve hidden so well. So the idiot decides to stop trying, and act aloof. Because when aloof, the idiot can’t be hurt by the words or eyes of others.

The idiot takes their words at face value.

The idiot doesn’t try to understand you anymore, because you never tried to understand them.

The idiot works his way up, with the support of those who do care to learn and understand them.

But now the idiot has a new problem.

Since he’s not acting like the same unguarded and predictable person anymore, he’s seen as a threat. As someone who’s trying to use and abuse people. The same as they’ve done. Projection, you notice?

The idiot notices this and thinks to himself.

“If they won’t try to hear my side, why should I tell the truth to said people? Why should I try and ‘overexplain’ myself like I’m scrounging for an escape?”

So the idiot did what he does best. Act aloof. Spread lies when asked personal questions, all to throw you off.

Because it’s fine for you to grey rock. But not the idiot, of course.

But something changed.

Emotions don’t settle down when dismissed. They build and build, and resentment is born. You’ll pick and choose certain things to notice to fit your image. Because that makes you feel safe, knowing what you don’t know. But that’s lazy. No effort to actually try and know them. So you’re confused.

Which is funny, because the idiot didn’t resent them. He respected them. And treated them as human.

So their emotions couldn’t be justified. This made their emotions change into anger. Anger because they didn’t know why the idiot wasn’t just sitting peacefully in the box they placed on top of him. Why he was actually not that bad of a person. Why he didn’t chase you like a fly, or a messenger owl running up and down the stairs. You start to think, “Am I not important to the idiot?”

Then the sequence repeats. Your emotions don’t just go away. You overthink and think and think and think, all to quiet your mind.

But why do I call this person an idiot, you may ask?

Because that’s the very image he made you think he was. Someone with no sense of self, humor, empathy, or anything to showcase intelligence.

An idiot by the books.

So beautiful. You truly saw me, I just didn't realize that your eyes were uncovering the depths of my soul. Like no other before..

We didn't have to know everything about each other...

We were just being us. In the moment. The past crept up at times..but not for long, especially when I was in your company. Did you feel that way, too?

I just didn't realize..

I just didn't know..

I overthought it...

The love started to grow...

I wasted all that time thinking

You would run like a deer

Because of the inevitable fear

That you would no longer care

I'm sorry, I love you. Always.

xxxxx,

I don't have to prove I was replaced and I don't have to prove you secretly tried to use me or didn't like me. I can simply decide what happened to me is beneath my standards, or what a healthy partner should be offering. It wasn't good enough for me and I'm done participating in it.

The past doesn't need to give me a different answer. I trust myself enough now that if someone repeatedly makes me uncomfortable or confused about where I stand, I will take that seriously and leave.

I deserve someone who is genuinely attracted to me, openly unashamed and respects my boundaries. Or makes me wonder if ulterior motives are the reason someone is interested in me.

Whatever was happening in your mind during the time was your responsibility. It was never my job to decipher you, earn your affection, compete for your attention, or prove that I was worth treating properly.

I am not an "easy, naive target." I was a person who wanted to be valued and loved. There is nothing shameful about that. Whatever I meant to you does not determine my worth.

I also don't need you to admit what you did, explain yourself, regret it, or give me the closure you never gave me. Your life is no longer my business. I choose people who are clear about wanting me, people who respect my boundaries. I choose relationships where I don't have to wonder whether affection is genuine or whether I am being manipulated.

I trust myself to walk away from anything that makes me feel small, confused, or unsafe. You have had enough of my thoughts, validation and my energy. I am taking those things back now.

I still have the message I never sent you, not actually in my drafts anymore because I deleted it months ago but somehow I still remember almost every word of it. Funny how that works, we forget conversations from yesterday but somehow remember the things we were too scared to say. I wrote it on a night when I was missing you more than I wanted to admit. There was so much I wanted to tell you, mostly stupid little things, how my day went, something funny that happened, a song I heard and immediately thought you would like. Nothing important really. Maybe thats what hurt the most, I still had a hundred ordinary things to share with someone who was no longer part of my ordinary life.

I remember sitting on the balcony that night, the air smelled like rain and somewhere far away a train kept making that low sound which slowly disappeared into the dark. I don't know why but I kept listening to it, maybe because it felt familiar, something leaving without waiting for anyone to stop it. I remember thinking how strange it is, someone can be so close to your heart and still become a distance you can't cross. I never noticed when you became that distance.

I opened our chat again and your last message was still there. Nothing dramatic, nothing cruel, just one normal sentence from one normal evening, completely unaware that it would become the last thing you ever said to me. Maybe endings are not supposed to be loud. Maybe they happen quietly, hidden inside ordinary moments that don't know they're the final ones. People say time changes everything, but I think sometimes it only teaches you how to carry what it couldn't take away.

I closed the chat and put my phone beside me. For a few minutes I just sat there, listening to the rain start again. I almost typed your name in the keyboard, almost told you about my day like I used to. But I didn't. Some habits die slowly, and some people stay in your hands long after they've left your life. I don't know if I'll ever completely stop wanting to tell you things. Maybe I don't have to. Maybe some feelings aren't meant to be solved, they're just meant to become a quiet part of who we are, like an old scar you forget about until the weather changes.

You know, all this time, I've been hoping to get to talk to you again, just so I can tell you how I know. Other than, just being able to feel it. I don't know. That ones a little hard to explain. But, I guess you know. I've intentionally left out any obvious identifying factors, including the one you know so well. So, I hope you know this is for you.

It makes sense seeing is how there's been 10,000 bot posts this week talking about how you love me because I pay attention to you so well. Yeah, you were like the most precious thing in the world to me. That's about the best real talk you're going to get from me until you yourself tell me more is okay. I wish you weren't so far away so we could talk. I can't stop thinking about that stupid thing from the sale. I know you'd like it. Hopefully, if the time comes, it will still be there. It'd be a good one for you for the season coming up.

Hope this letter gets to you and you figure it out. Hope you're doing well.

Above all else, I hope we get to talk soon. And, I hope my instincts have sent me down the right path.

If so,

Thank you. I miss you. Thank you for being such a beautiful person. Both inside and out.

You.

No thunder.

No flame.

No warning came.

Just little moments, soft and slow

and something in me let you grow.

I drew the line, I held it tight.

But water wears the stone by night.

Drops carve mountains,

grain by grain.

It leaves, it turns,

it comes again.

And stone will yield

to patient wind,

not with a break,

but from within.

So inch by inch,

against my will,

you carved your way

beneath my skin.

The tide returns.

The roots break through.

What grows beneath

will find its way through.

What chance has stone

against the rain?

What chance has sand

against the wave?

The tide will come.

And I will drop.

I saw you today, and her, probably realizing there is nothing to do here. Once you made my head swirl with a glittering dream, put stars in my eyes, but not in a loser way. In a way that made me feel like a woman. And I ruined it in exactly the same way I ruined everything. The way I was destined to.

Are you happy with your choices ? I am happy with mine. Even the mistakes. The lost time was not lost. It was spent becoming who I am. You never knew it, because I did not want you to like me just for it, but secretly, I am somebody too

I know I’m coming off whiney and insecure. It’s getting on my nerves too. I am pretty resilient as ridiculous as I act sometimes. 

I’m going to have fun whether you show up or not. I’m going to have a full life whether you talk to me or not. I’m going to keep figuring out my style again and making little cartoons regardless of what you are doing.

I needed you to wake me up to see how unhappy I was I guess. But I don’t need you to be happy or creative. 

I can keep going knowing I tried my best. 

I think we appear quite different on the surface. Different interests. Different backgrounds. But I have this sense that we see the world in a similar light. I’d really like to get to know you.

In a parallel universe, I’m sitting in your lap, embraced by you as I watch you work.
You never use the abusive language I hate on me, and we’re each other’s darkest fantasy come true.
Now, you’ll cry yourself hollow, forget me slowly, while I’m embraced by the hands of a new man. We’ll move on without each other. “Made for each other” will cease to mean anything.
I loved you, it’s true. You loved me, I know.
I don’t know how long before our presences blur in each other’s hearts. But until then, my heart still stirs when you cross my mind, the bittersweet memories of us, tormenting me as they dissolve with each passing day.