An open letter to the last one who broke my heart

Dear You,

Although I have no reason  to believe you read this blog, I hope you see this. C’me on universe.

Last night, I was talking to someone. It was hushed tones, late-night, that talk you talk when you’re getting to know someone who might be someone new. I was intoxicated from a night spent jumping, laughing, dancing, and hyperventilating from the crowd. He was just intoxicated.

I told him about my past, and now my past includes you, and I told him about my past and you in a way that surprised myself. I have struggled to make the best of my past experiences, but for the most part I have straddled the line between bitter and ashamed. Bitter at the external, ashamed at/of myself. This time, though, I told him of my things and I told him about you, and I surprised myself. I told him that with you, it hurt so badly that I had to heal, and as I said it, I realized it was true.

Like a young daredevil, I was careless with my heart, and it got broken a few times. Like a leg that was never set, it healed enough to function, but it still hurt when I walked on it. Or when it rained. Then came you. You were the one who broke my heart again, only this time it got set, it got put in a cast, and it is well on its way to healing properly.

I know that I loved you, short time that we were, inappropriate that it was, speeding bullet, oncoming train, clear and beautiful disaster that it all turned out to be, because it rocked me to my core. I am not the same after you.

Before you, I was angry. I was bitter. I felt stupid. I was lost. I was careless with my heart because I was unaware of how precious it was. If this was a different type of letter, here is where I would add the “hence why I gave it to you” clause, but that is not this. Some things you just can’t control. You were my force of nature.

But when it ended between us, it hurt. It hurt so badly that I had no choice but to go to the places I was most afraid to explore within, to say to myself the things that I was burying, hiding from, talking over. It forced me to look at myself, to listen, and to be honest with myself. I slowly learned to trust myself.

I don’t understand why my spirit recognized itself in yours, but I do know that what that gave me was so pure and utterly good that nothing could fill the space your absence created except for all of my wildest dreams, and so I fulfilled them. I chased them relentlessly after you, and now I’m on my way to teach English in Korea, something I have been scared of for years. But I can do it, because I backpacked in Guatemala. And I went after that experience as a part of filling that space that your absence created.

A psychic told me you realized you made a mistake in leaving me. My ego hopes that’s true. She also told me that you would never be happy in a relationship because you didn’t know how. The very best part of me hopes that’s not. You helped to reinvigorate me. My experience with you showed me how truly beautiful being happy with someone is, however brief. I hope that you find that again one day. It is worth the risk, a thousand times over. The only thing I would change about you and me is that if I could do it again, I would be more honest. Something like that deserves to be experienced fully, because it can never truly be denied.

sincerely,

bravely,

bryoneyh

p.s.: I am also equally OK with you not reading this letter

 

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2 responses to “An open letter to the last one who broke my heart

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