i’ve been sitting with these thoughts since i last saw you.
and i still can’t make them out.

i’m angry.
so angry.

you know where it hurts because you know me.
all too well.
you always have and you always will.

you poked at every bruise,
rubbed salt in all the raw places.
you damn well knew what you were doing.
and now, you still know where it hurts.
and it still hurts.

the nooks and crannies of my heart,
my brain.
you mapped them like a home then lit a match.
you didn’t just find the cracks.
you studied them, memorised them.
then pressed into each one with precision.

your words made me fold into myself,
afraid of even the idea of opening up again.
scared of how easily you could crack me open.
scared of what love could do.
my vulnerability laid out in the light.

i keep writing about you —
between the pages,
between the lines,
between the letters,
between each silent cry.

and i know you were hurting too.
i saw it.
even in the moments you thought i wasn’t looking.
how our friendship brought you turmoil and great sadness.

so i left.
not because i didn’t care.
because i did.
because i do.

but i want you to remember:
i have demons too.
things i don’t talk about. things you never asked about.
ones you never saw. ones i stopped trying to explain.

i’ve lived a thousand lives in this one and none of them made me feel like i would ever get what others find so easily.
peace. belonging. being chosen.
i don’t get the easy kind of love.
the soft landings.
the staying kind.

and i still don’t know how to talk to you.
not with my voice.
so here i am — writing.
trying to make sense of the ache.
this is the only way i know how.

and still, i write about you —
between the pages,
between the lines,
between the letters,
between each silent cry.

i don’t know if i can forgive you.
but i don’t know if i can forgive myself if i don’t.

maybe i can.
maybe not yet.

but even now, i know this:
somehow, even now,
somewhere deep beneath the grief,
i’d still choose you.

even if i shouldn’t.
even if it breaks me.
even if it already has.

i can forgive you.
because love,
as i learned from you,
is all about surrender.