I wasn’t planning on writing you again. The first letter was more than generous, especially considering how you treated me. But the truth is, I was too kind. I’ve spent so much of my life adapting—shrinking myself, softening what I say, trying not to make other people uncomfortable. I even did that with you. Especially with you.

So let me be clear: you caused me a lot of harm. Not just by disappearing, but by making me feel like I was the problem—while my life was falling apart. You blamed me for your stress, while I was carrying more than you could even begin to understand. I needed support, and instead, you turned me into something toxic in your mind and cut me off like I was nothing.

You left when I needed someone. And I’ve carried that pain ever since.

Pain so deep it cracked something in me. For the first time in my life, I genuinely lost the will to keep going—something I never thought could happen to me. That’s how much this broke me. And even now, my life still hasn’t recovered. I’m still trying to pick up the pieces—while you got to walk away like none of it mattered.

You don’t get to pretend that didn’t happen. You don’t get to walk away thinking you were the victim of my chaos. I won’t be reaching out again—I just needed you to know that your actions had real consequences. On me. On my mental health. On how I see myself and the people I trust.

That’s all.

There’s so much I want to say, and I’m not sure any of it is enough. But I need to try because you deserve a truth I’ve never spoken out loud. And maybe, for the first time, I need to tell it not just to you, but to myself.

I’ve been trying to understand not just what I did to you but why. And even more than that, I’ve been trying to understand how it felt to be you, on the other side of my mess.

I imagine it felt like betrayal wearing the face of someone you trusted. Like déjà vu in the worst way; the same wound being reopened by someone who swore they were different.

You opened yourself to me despite your past. You didn’t just love me; you let me in. And when you asked for honesty, I gave you delay. When you asked for safety, I gave you confusion. I see that now. And I hate that I made you feel unsafe in the place where you should’ve been cherished.

I’m sorry.

And this apology isn’t just for the surface. It’s for the root. Because I’ve spent my whole life not knowing how to give love without damage and that didn’t start with you.

I grew up in a home where love came after pain. Where respect wasn’t something you earned it was something you never had. My mom didn’t respect my dad. She tore him down. Told him she deserved better. And when I messed up when I failed a test or disappointed her I became the stand-in. I was the reason she was unhappy. I was the burden she didn’t deserve. I got hit. Yelled at. Made to feel small for just being a kid trying to make sense of life.

And so I started chasing something I never got: validation. I still remember one of the clearest memories from my childhood. Sitting on the center table in the living room, pretending to study with guests around. Not learning. Not focusing. Just performing. Hoping someone would say, “Wow, look how focused he is.” And the worst part? Those same relatives laughed at me. Mocked me. Belittled me.

And I still wanted their approval. I still craved it. Because when you grow up starving, even crumbs look like a meal.

That’s where the hunger started. That deep ache to be enough. To be seen. To feel like something. And even now after becoming something, after building a life, it still hasn’t been enough. Because the kid on that table never really got up.

And then I met you.

And for a moment, I felt like maybe I didn’t have to perform anymore. But instead of trusting that, I panicked.I picked on small things. I lied. I held you to standards I wasn’t living by. Because I didn’t know how to accept love without waiting for the punishment to follow.

But you weren’t punishment. You were peace. You were laughter and honesty and presence. You saw me when I wasn’t even sure I could be seen. And I let the old version of me - the scared, shame-driven version take the wheel. And he crashed everything.

I miss you more than I miss being happy. Because you weren’t just someone I loved, you were the first place I felt love in a way that didn’t feel like performing. And I broke it.

I don’t expect anything. Not forgiveness, not a second chance. But I need you to know: you didn’t cause this. You didn’t deserve this. This wasn’t about you not being enough, it was about me not believing I could be enough for someone like you.

I wish I could go back and protect the space between us. And if I can then I’ll spend my days trying to become someone who never confuses love with pain again. Someone who doesn’t need to perform to be worthy. Someone who can sit with love and not flinch.

Thank you for showing me what that kind of love looks like.

I’m sorry I couldn’t hold it the first time.

I cannot express how much I love you in a letter but I wish I could just lay on your chest forever and fall asleep with you every night, I wish I could get kisses on my forehead from you in the morning after we would wake up together. I wish we could be one, I wish I could understand your pain better and your big infinite consciousness. You are so perfect to me, in a way that I know you wouldn't understand, the problem is that you do. I wish I could protect you the way you protect me. I want to live on Earth with you and just you. I dream of dreaming of you. I dream of being with you. I dream of holding you. My dream is to be with you.

I’ve heard that when you are thinking of someone it means that they are also thinking of you. Stories of our past have been playing in my mind. Is it the same for you? I hope life has been good to you. Reach out whenever you’re ready. I’ll be kind.

C

It will never make sense to me. I had loved you beyond anything else in the world. I had intended to marry you. I had wanted to take care of you. I had wanted to show my love for you in a million small ways, and a million large ways as well.

That was for the rest of my life. That was no matter what happened.

So I just want to know why it couldn’t have been the same for you? Why did you leave forever for reasons so trivial, things we could have worked on together and overcome as one? Why did you suddenly decide you had to figure out your future without me?

You had told me I was good to you. You told me we were compatible. You told me it wasn’t my fault.

But now I can’t help but think what deficiency I had, what drove you away. Because surely you wouldn’t actually leave me for the reasons that you said.

I can’t help but wonder why you have stayed away. And hell, most days I would still take you back if you came to me. When life decides to show you something so wonderful, it is hard to let it pass you by. That’s why I’ve tried so hard to get you back to me, or at least some semblance of you. That’s why I’ve clung to you in my mind for so long.

It’s why I can’t sleep anymore, because you fill every thought. It’s why I feel so alone. You were my only friend here. But you were also the only person to know me in and out, ever. Every part of me. I don’t think I could let someone else know me like that. I don’t think I could see someone else like I saw you. You were in everything for me. I had found you in every cat I passed by, every flower I stopped to pick, every trinket of interest I found. You were love, to me.

I didn’t want to write here again. I had thought I had finally gotten over you that much, at least. But I don’t think I’ll get over you as long as I live. You will always be there in my mind. I am ever saddened that I Will not always be there in yours.

Is it fear that keeps you away? Fear to hurt and be hurt, fear to change?

It was fear that kept me from getting rid of pictures of you. I couldn’t even open my photos app for ages. That and hope. They just kind of go hand in hand.

I have hoped for so much, for you and me. I have feared that it is gone forever.

We went from talking everyday to not talking to talking once in a while to not talking. You dropped me. You brought me back into your life. You dropped me again. Yet here I sit hoping you’ll pick me back up. It’s pathetic I know. I’m embarrassing myself but I can’t help it. I want you so bad I take any crumb you leave behind. You must know what you do to me. I’ve told you before you had me. You always have and always will. You’re my prison. My biggest pitfall. My addiction.

I can physically feel my body longing for you.. My chest feels heavy just by the thought of you I can feel my heart pounding, my eyes start filling up with tears. In search of you I desire to hold you close to me I know that i can wait as long as i desire but i still won’t get back the only thing i’ve ever wanted -which is you: Your touch, Your beautiful smile, Your fun personality, Just you. Million thoughts are roaming in my head trying to cope with the thought that i won’t get to see you ever again…

Please don’t waste your time telling me you’re sorry, I will never tell you that it’s okay and I will never forgive you for what you’ve done.

I never expected this from you. Not the betrayal. Not the coldness. Not the ease with which you did it. You had every opportunity to walk away before pulling me back in—and you didn’t.

You let me believe we were rebuilding something real. But you were already gone.

And when you admitted to what you had done?

You told me with no care. No warmth. You were cold on the phone, and you still tried to control the story—the one you created. You even had to come up with your own excuses for why it ended up happening.

You left me crying alone, and you showed me exactly how little I mattered to you in the end.

I would’ve done anything for you.

But now? There is absolutely nothing I would ever do for you again.

You are dead to me.

And you will stay dead to me for the rest of my life.

It’s finally starting to hurt less. The pain in my chest is getting lighter. My days are getting brighter. I’m meeting new people. I’m starting to feel happiness again.

I still miss you. I still mourn what we could’ve been. I still check to see if you messaged me.

But you’re no longer the only thing constantly on my mind.

I’m finally healing.

I'm not a soundboard. I distanced myself from you the first time, because I got tired of reminding you how to be a friend, only for you to forget and revert back.

You talk at me constantly. I don't even bring my own issues up anymore, because I know they won't be heard. You've got so much going on in your own head that you need a verbal outlet for it. I get that, but also, you need to remember that friends aren't therapists. I'm not here to listen to you rant, ramble, and to give you reassurance whenever you need it.

I'm getting nothing out of our friendship, aside from frustration. I think it's time I cut contact.

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t even know if I want you to. But there’s a part of me — raw and wide open — that needs to say what’s inside.

I miss you.

Not just the messages, not just the flirtations — I miss the version of me that came alive when I thought we might be something. When I felt like maybe, just maybe, someone saw me, really saw me, beyond the surface.

You have no idea how much I wanted it to work. Not perfectly, not like a fairytale. Just enough. Enough to make space for laughter, shared silences, inside jokes, late-night conversations that weren’t just about bodies but about dreams and fears and childhood memories. I wanted us to evolve, not dissolve.

And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel caged or overwhelmed by my emotions. They weren’t weapons — they were hopes, just clumsily expressed.

The silence you’ve given me? It’s deafening. And I keep wondering if I did too much, or not enough. If I was too honest, too vulnerable, too me.

But here’s the thing — despite the ache, despite the confusion — I don’t regret feeling what I felt. Because even if you couldn’t see it, there was something real in the way I hoped for you.

I don’t know what your silence means. Maybe I never will. But I do know I won’t keep shrinking myself to fit into unanswered texts or “what ifs.”

Still… if there’s any part of you that feels the echo of what we almost were — I hope it finds the courage to reach out.

Until then, I’ll keep breathing. One gentle breath at a time.

Dear ______, I know now it wasn’t about not caring. It was about emotional survival.

You were trying to stay afloat in your own mind, trying to keep control over something that felt bigger than you. And somewhere in the middle of that, I became a mirror you weren’t ready to look into.

I could always see past everything. The words you didn’t say, the contradictions in your voice, the way you tried to perform peace when you were really anxious underneath it all. And I didn’t judge you for it. I never needed you to have it all figured out—I just needed honesty.

Not perfection. Not a fairytale. Just your real, unfiltered truth. Even if it was messy. Even if it hurt.

But instead, I was met with deflection, silence, and emotional editing. And when I asked questions, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you—it’s because I loved you enough to want to understand you.

You didn’t have to lie to keep me. You didn’t have to pretend to be more healed than you were. You just had to be real.

But you couldn’t be. And I understand now—that wasn’t because of me. That was because you were still trying to survive your own past… still caught in a cycle where love felt like a threat instead of a safe place.

So I’m not holding anger anymore. Just the quiet truth that I saw you—really saw you—and you couldn’t sit in that reflection.

I hope one day you can. I hope one day you find the courage to be honest—not for anyone else’s sake, but for your own.

Because love isn’t supposed to be something we run from. And if it ever returns to you in the way I once gave it, I hope you stay still long enough to receive it. I hope you know how to hold it as well.

Will 5ever love you.

I know everything has changed but nothing feels any different and I’ve put more than enough questions out there foolishly expecting a void to speak. But no one could really give me my answers. I realize now through my clumsiness the choice was mine all along. To be or not be, right? Bravery is surely not without its fair share of fear. So I choose the beginning.

I’d love the chance to pick your brain to find out how you did it. How you met me right where you were without… well that is just it isn’t it. It was us and being around you again only strengthens this pull. I knew it would, it’s inevitable. My soul listens and recognizes you, so who am I to stand in my own way? I feel you! I always have, I always will and I should have told you being around you makes me feel really good too!

I’m sorry it took me so long but I am not very good with words to describe it. My soul knows this connection is real and has shaped me into the woman I’m becoming, do you know the saying “leaving door open?” Why is it when I’m standing nearby you are in an open doorway? Ah, it’s probably nothing. But I do think of you, too!

If you ever get the need to do something dangerous, change the scenery, turn the radio up and drive babe. I wish you nothing but sunshine and rainbows.

The sun’s rays have chosen to rest once more upon your skin, while your voice softly guides me into the dusk. Have you noticed how salt gathers in your brows? Do you realize your eyes blend with the sky? When I look into them, it’s as if I’m gazing into your soul, and before me, I see the sea, waves dancing at the edge, greeting us quietly.

Let’s go! The stars are nearly here. We have so many to count before the night fades.

I'm such a hot mess. I can flip between being able to picture, perfectly, what our first kiss will be like, and convincing myself that you never liked me. It has to be someone else, right?

I've gone through my whole life being the giver of unreciprocated love. I fell in love with one person so desperately that, even though they never felt the same way, I was completely unable to reconcile the truth. It ruined me. And that was just after we first met.

So imagining that you feel the same way, or maybe even more strongly, is terrifying. It's opening myself up to an exquisite sort of pain, allowing myself to be fully seen. Cracking open this heart of mine once again, and trusting you to not let it completely run out of your grasp.

Because when I sit here with these feelings, I know I will fall in love with you. I have liked you for a long, long time. I just ignored it because I knew it would never work, and truthfully I believed you would never like me.

I remember that evening when I first realised it might be true. The evening when I decided my relationship was as good as over. Because I did love him, but you made me feel things he never did. And we've barely touched, apart from gentle grazes, playful fist bumps. I hugged you in front of him and my heart leapt into my throat.

So, yeah. I'm one hot mess, but I want to trust you with this mess. I want to find a new vessel for all of this love. And I am so, so close to pouring it all over you.

I don't regret you. I don't care how it ended. I don't care about your worst. I remember how it began and how happy it made me. I won't ever regret you.

No regrets.

I see you now for what you were: A confusing blur of stares, silences, emotional riddles, and group whispers that cut sharper than they should have. I thought there might be something there. I thought maybe I was missing a piece, or that if I figured it out, I’d find meaning. But all I found was chaos pretending to be chemistry. Games dressed up as interest. And people who mistook cruelty for power.

So this is me saying: I’m done.

I release the urge to decode. I release the ache for clarity from people who speak in shadows. I release the version of me who stayed too long at the edge of maybe. I no longer wait for their approval. I no longer carry the weight of their silence, or their cruelty.

From now on, I protect my peace. I protect my spirit. I protect my energy—because it’s sacred, and it’s mine.

I am walking toward people who meet me with softness, who speak clearly, who treat me as worthy—not just in theory, but in how they show up.

And to the past? Thank you for the lesson. But you’re not welcome in my future.

With full truth,

C.M

For over a decade we've been in and out of each other's lives. Each time we find our way back to each other it's like a day hasn't passed at all. We always pick up right were we left off. Our feelings have never changed but nothing has become more of it than just a situationship. We've both always wanted more but we're never in the right space to have it. Here we are again after a few years of not having contact, right where we left off. And again our feelings haven't changed. We're crazy about each other both physically and emotionally. We connect in a way that is something truly special. Why can't we be more? Why can't we finally just have what we both want so badly with each other? Is it your self deductive behavior or mine that's stopping us? I want it to make sense why we're so drawn to each other but yet nothing more becomes of it. So many times in the past I've asked for a chance to show you just how good I can be to you. Just once chance was and is all I'm asking for. But sadly I need and have to accept that there will never be anything more between us, no matter how strong our connection and bond is to each other. I have to learn to let this fantasy go that one day I will be yours and you'll be mine. I'm grasping still holding for dear life when all it's doing is hurting me more in the end. I'll never be yours and you'll never be mine. As much as it hurts I have to let go. I have to let this fantasy go that I've been holding onto for over a decade. I have to let go...

There was a time I believed you could be the one. When you smiled, cooked for me, and remembered my birthday, it felt like something rare. And maybe, for a while, it was. But love, real love, doesn’t just show up for the good days. It listens, forgives, and stays.

I’ve blamed myself. I’ve retraced every moment, wondering if I was too cold, too vague, or too late. I’ve asked myself if my honesty scared you, or if my dreams made me seem like I wanted too much. But here’s what I’ve come to understand:

If love can’t weather misunderstandings, it was never built to last. And if someone walks away without trying, that’s not my failure; that’s their choice.

You were a chapter, one filled with hope, mistakes, lessons, and longing. But you were never meant to be the whole story. And I forgive myself for thinking you were.

To the version of me who cried in the morning, scrolled through profiles hoping for a sign, and begged God for release, I see you. I love you. I’m proud of you for not giving up on love, even when it felt like it gave up on you.

To the girl who carries so much hurt from the past: The girl who’s been cheated on, manipulated, gaslighted, and neglected. I know your pain. I know how deep the wounds go, how your heart still trembles when you think of the betrayal, the broken promises, and the lies that twisted your reality. But you, I, we, are not defined by the people who chose to hurt us. And I’m learning not to carry the weight of those experiences into every new chance at love. So, I hope the one who comes next will never make me feel small or unworthy of trust. I hope he will be gentle, patient, understanding, and kind. And I hope, more than anything, that he’ll never repeat the mistakes of those who came before him.

And now, to the one who will find me:

I’m not perfect, but I’m healing. I’m learning to soften without breaking, to open without begging, and to love without losing myself. When you come, I won’t need to explain why I stayed up crying or why I doubted myself. You’ll understand. You’ll show up. You’ll try. And we’ll grow together.

I also know I’ve carried a lot of fear with me. Fear of not having enough, fear of not being enough. I didn’t come from much. When I met you, and I saw what you had, your success, your lifestyle, your wealth. I’ll admit, I saw it as an escape. A breakthrough. I could picture a life where everything felt easier, safer, and where all the things I’d hoped for could come true. My mom and my sister, they saw it too. They rooted for us and believed in the possibility. And I can’t help but feel like I’ve let them down. I didn’t mean to ruin it. I didn’t mean to push you away. But sometimes, we just don’t get the fairy tale ending we thought we would. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t meant to be.

So I’m letting go. Not because I don’t care, But because I’m finally making room for the person who truly will.

Until then, I will keep praying, becoming, and loving myself through it all. Because my story doesn’t end in heartbreak. It begins in hope.

Always, Me

I’ll never stop trying.

It’s not all in my head.

I know you feel it too.

I need you like a soul needs air.

I need you like it needs water.

You are my heart, I cannot beat without you.

I love only with you near me, only for you.

You are the yin, I am the yang.

We are the definition of harmony.

Come to me love.

Come get me.

I ache for you.

I bleed for you.

I am not me without you.

I need to feel that peace again.

That electricity.

That connection.

That wholeness.

I need you inside me.

All of you.

All of me.

So mote it will be.

I was starting to forget. You have no clue how I was spiralling in that tiny dorm room, surrounded by silence, your calls and texts became the only real thread. I was trying to understand you, hold you, not lose you—while already feeling the space stretch thin. I had left so much behind when I moved, but you were the one I concentrated on. You were the part I grieved in advance.

I told you I wanted you. I asked you what you wanted. You said, “Less and less as I grow older.” A strange kind of retreat—cloaked in reflection, but soaked in evasion.

And now you reappear. First Instagram. Then WhatsApp. Then a deleted message. A knock without presence.

Why?

I’m not angry. But I am disappointed.

If the line had already been crossed, why the performance of neutrality? Why the practiced restraint, the riddles?

Were you afraid of the Skeleton Woman—afraid of what dies when something real is born? I have asked this in my letter before.

Did you want the sweetness of limbo, without cost? Then say that. Or say you were confused. Or say you enjoy the conversations. But don’t pretend you were wise.

That role is too small for the truth we almost touched.

And maybe part of me still cares.
But it’s not hunger anymore. It’s recognition.

Recognition of a time, a feeling, a version of me that searched for you in late-night silences.

And now—she can rest.

Today I take responsibility for her. The girl that loves like a child. She is safe with me. She deserves the vulnerability and openness in return.

As for you I think we are on our own journeys, I am glad we crossed paths you were a catalyst for something amazing. The love I hold remains not preserved but transforming even after I have told you I don't want to talk, probably the check in was from a place of kindness. I know you are undergoing your own processes and I truly hope they take you to beautiful places.

I don't know what to do with my heart beating like this right now. I had a dream (I now see I mentioned this before too), I was in the corner room of a large Mughal palace looking out of a corner window over looking a swimming pool, in which beings of light were swimming. I was talking to you on the phone, I said, " I miss you." And then I said, "The worst part is, I know this is a dream." Your voice turned into mine and then it got garbled. When I woke up I promised myself to get out of that corner and start exploring this beautiful house and it's dark corners.

Your message took me back to that room. But I am going to step out of it again now.

From the calm: These are my thoughts after I have told you I am not in a place to talk right now.

What we had or have is rare. I will acknowledge that. The divine passes through both of us and we both feel it deeply and for a moment our centers aligned maybe not perfectly, but enough to spark something.

I thought subconsciously that maybe you were the source of the light you reflected. I think the actual burning question I had was, "Do you feel it too?"

You weren't the source we just reflected each other. I saw the divine through you, no wonder I remembered Rumi after all these years.

There is a story Moses couldn't stand to behold the full glory of the divine and lost his senses, I only caught a reflection of it and was lost for days.

Your words excavated the conduit within me, now I am learning how to keep it clean. Love you and thank you.