a love letter to my ex that took me seven years to write

Dearest D,

I hope you’re living the life you once dreamed of. I hope your heart has found peace.

It’s been a couple of years now - maybe more - that I’ve been quietly carrying the weight of this letter inside me, waiting until I had the right words. I don’t want to let silence be the final word between us. I want to leave this letter like a flower on a grave - not mourning, but honouring us.

I want to begin by saying this:
If you have ever - and I know you have - wondered if I truly loved you when we were together,
when I was in your arms and we dreamed of our future,
know that I did.
I did love you, with all my broken pieces.
And a part of me still does.

In some parallel universe, we are together - hopefully doing all the things we once dreamed of.

I know you’ve been seeking closure.
And I also know that I cannot give you that - only you can.
Still, my intention behind writing this letter is to let you know that I cherish what we had - all of it - and I don’t regret anything.
And I hope that is enough, because that is all we have.

I want to apologise for making you feel like it was you who could have made ‘us’ work, or that it was your fault we had to end.
It wasn’t your fault.
It wasn’t anyone’s.
I am sorry.

I’ve carried a lot of guilt from our time together - for not being able to love you like you needed me to.
Being the one who had to end our relationship hasn’t been easy on me.
But it had to end, because we were already hurt - and without meaning to, we were hurting each other.

Love wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

We were young, both carrying pain from wounds we didn’t yet have names for.
Looking back, I see clearly how the ways we had learned to love - and be loved - triggered each other, how they brought out the worst in us (even if only sometimes).
And it wasn’t our fault.
We didn’t yet have the maturity to understand ourselves - let alone hold and love the other with the depth they deserved.

I needed emotional stability and reassurance to heal old wounds,
but you couldn’t give me that - you hadn’t seen or received that kind of love yourself.
And I couldn’t pour unconditional love into you, because my own cup wasn’t even half full.

Still, we tried.
With everything we had, we tried.

You taught me to see myself with kinder eyes.
Before meeting you, I believed beauty came from external things - my clothes, my shoes.
I know you were first drawn to how I looked on the outside,
but what you didn’t know was how ugly I felt on the inside.

I didn’t believe I had any beauty that was truly mine, that came from within.
But you made me see it.
Seeing myself through your eyes made me begin to fall in love with myself.

Even now, I carry traces of what we shared - in the way I love, in the way I listen, in the way I hold myself and others with a little more care.
You taught me how to be seen. You reminded me that I was worthy of softness.
You gave me love at a time I didn’t believe I could be loved.

And even though it couldn’t last, I know it was real.

We mattered. Even if we ended.

I haven’t opened my heart to another man since you, and I often wonder if anyone will ever see me the way you did.

Thank you for giving me that - for showing me a version of love that, while imperfect, brought me closer to myself. You were a part of my becoming, and I will always be grateful for that.
Truly.

I wish for you a life full of beauty, of peace, and of love that nourishes you in ways you didn’t know were possible.
I hope you find someone who sees you deeply, and who holds your heart with the tenderness it has always deserved.

Someone who meets your silences with understanding. And patience. Someone with whom love feels safe.

You have so much to give, and I hope you are met with a love that receives you fully and gives back just as much.

May the next chapter of your life be filled with the kind of love that doesn’t leave you questioning - only helps you become even more of who you are. You deserve nothing less.

Take care of your heart.

with love, always

imdad