I wish I had anything else to write about, but this last bit of coldness plagues my creative ability.
You were my first great everything, and in a fit of idealism I strove to make you the last. Beginner’s mistake, I know, I know. Thus far, we were the greatest thing that I ever knew, and I didn’t care to know much more. You became what I had needed for a long, long time, and I figured I had hit my stride at 21 years old.
And when life began twisting us together and apart at frighteningly regular intervals, I thought, this is the hardship that is talked about. This is the test, to see if I’m worthy, if I can handle the commitment. Can I shrug off a slap in the face, and still want to to kiss you at the top of your face? Harder still, can I think of myself as a decent human being after doing the same to you?
It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Had you not turned around, I might have tried, strained against all hope to make it work, and I see now that that probably would have been the worst thing of all — because I would have been denying the most precious gift you had to offer, which was not to cling on with blind hope and fierce love, but rather to let go, with eyes closed and fingertips stubbornly sliding away. It’s a gift that I was likely too self-centered, too lonely and too scared to give you. And I’m not any less lonely or scared today, but I am more whole, and I don’t look back. So I give it to you now.
Thank you and goodbye, my favorite.