Dear X,
Today is the anniversary of when we parted ways. It's been a year.
And all is as it should be.
Do I miss you?
Sometimes. But not often.
Do I wish you were still in my life?
Sometimes. But not often.
Do I wish we parted sooner?
Maybe. Sometimes. As I've come out of this unscathed, I have no quibbles.
Do I wish I knew what you were up to?
Yes and no. More out of curiosity than need. I don't need to know what's going on in your life. I miss sharing mine with you. That was your decision. I've respected your wishes.
Have I wanted to contact you?
Only to wish you happy birthday. I didn't. I thought about it, but I didn't. Proud of myself for that one. No point stirring the pot.
Did you break my heart?
No. I was hoping we could have come out of this as friends, but that wasn't your choice. You made yourself clear. That stung a bit, but disappointments are part of being human.
But all is as it should be.
When I say I sometimes miss you, I miss aspects of you, like talking to you, the fact that we never struggled to find things to talk about, our mutual love of dodgy films. Of course, I miss the physical intimacy - running my fingers through your chest hair, the smell of your neck, the soft hair at the back of your neck, the way you twitch in your sleep - things like that.
But after a year, I realise that what we had was never enough. Not that either of us asked for more. It was nice. It was fun. Convenient. An escape for both of us. They're not really things you base a big relationship on.
Of course, there were the things that I let slide. You didn't make me laugh. At times, I felt I was walking on eggshells. Everything had to be done on your terms. I'm not one for compromise, but I was willing to try. You weren't.
And yes, there were the things that irritated me. Your unwillingness to read fiction. And your inability to eat anything hotter than table pepper. (heaven help anybody if you found a skerrick of chilli on your plate) The fact that you spent twice the time I ever did in the bathroom - God knows what you do in there. And your inherent selfishness. And your bewilderment at my kindness. And your inability to see joy in little things. I never told you any of this.
Looking at the list above, I know we are better off apart.
And all is as it should be.
I think of you with fondness. And wish you well on your way.
It's been a year.
And I am okay.
With love,
P
p.s. Today's song often played in my head after you went on your way. Portishead really says it all. And yes, though we had similar tastes in music, Portishead will always be mine.
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