I want things to be different. I desperately do.

I’ve always held out hope that we would find a way if we just tried hard enough. If we fought hard enough. If we gave it everything we had. I mean, doesn’t the universe honor that- if two people are willing to risk so much to be together?

That’s not the case, though. Because some things don’t work, even if you believe wholeheartedly that they should.

Everything in my bones screams at me that maybe there is another chance for us out there. I would love to cling to that idea. If I did, then I could reach out to you again, without hesitation, to bring that chance to life. Yet the sadness and finality of everything sits on my chest like a weight. We aren’t meant for each other.

If we were, then I would’ve sacrificed everything when I had the chance. If we were, you wouldn’t have looked to other people to fill the space I held. If we were, you would’ve told me how you felt when it made sense to. If we were, I would’ve told you how I felt, even if it meant scaring you a little.

There are memories and moments where I understand why I felt so sure about us. Our genuine connection, the ease in which we opened up to each other, our chemistry that made everything feel as if it were one fire. The tender moments where we held onto each other, silent promises that one day we’d figure it all out.

Yet on the other side, I remember when we’d push each other away, when you would grow distant and detached, not giving me a reason why. When I would reach out to you in a way that felt clingy and dependent. When I would turn to someone else to distract myself from the hurt, and how I wouldn’t change my mind even when you showed up again.

I remember the endless circles we went around, how we called them learning experiences instead of bad habits. We would always say we would do better in the future, that we had our whole lives to figure this out. But I can’t spend the rest of my life being dizzy, even if it’s with you.

I miss you more than you could ever realize. I still pick up the phone, ready to text you about something that happened. I still ache when I see you post something on social media, and I want to reach out. I think about you more often than I would care to admit- to myself or anyone else.

I know it’s okay to miss you because whatever we had was strong and beautiful. To pretend like I don’t miss you would be a disservice to everything we went through. Yet I’m finally in a place where I know that missing you isn’t a sign to try again. It’s a sign that we had a great thing. That’s it, that’s all.

So please know I miss you, but I do understand we aren’t meant for each other.

But I’ll still remember us for the rest of my life- and I will learn to be okay with that.


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