I wish to tell you that I don’t love you anymore.
Yes, that is the only reason I’m writing to you. To put an end to us. And we were, we were for a very long time. For too long.
I’ve realised that I stopped caring long time ago, but I refused to admit it to myself.
It’s incredible how desperately us women stick to our habits, how easily we succumb to our fears. We dare not call it quits. We don’t seem to understand that this one life is too short to waste it on the wrong people.
You may not have been wrong from the start, but from the moment we transited from the beginning to the continuation, the magic disappeared.
Not because I didn’t love you, but because you didn’t love me.
But we were together for a long time, for too long. And it felt wonderful.
No, that is not true. You felt wonderful.
It’s wonderful to be with me. I would gladly be in a relationship with someone like me.
It was great for you. Not so for me. I just squandered years waiting for I don’t know what? For something to change? For you to change?
People never change, I’m finally aware of that. You are as you were then. One beautiful autumn day the idyll was dissipated. I just didn’t realise it at the time. One fine autumn day, you were back to being the old you again, the way you were before you met me.
And me, I’m the same old me: persistant and loyal.
I wish to tell you I don’t love you anymore. I stopped caring about you a long time ago, but I only recently realised that.
I wish you well. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t.
In fact, I wish you what you wish me.
When love is gone, when the disappointment and hatred disappear too, all that’s left is Nothing.
Maybe only regret for the time lost.
And maybe not even that.