You see, the thing is, I love you.
I wanted to write “loved,” but I cannot.
No matter what transpired in our little world, I will always love you.
But you messed up. You thought I would always let you not love me the way you should. You thought you could just say the words and do the bare minimum and take and take and take, and that I would always show up.
To be fair, I taught you that behavior. I allowed you to not see my value. Then, when you treated me like garbage to be tossed aside, I was surprised and hurt and I hated you.
I want you to know, that I will never accept responsibility for your actions, but I will accept that I let it happen more than once. That is all on me.
When I left, I knew I would need to let go of you - let’s be real - I have known that for months now. I just wasn’t ready.
But then I met some people and they reminded me of my value. They treated me with kindness. Instead of hesitating when they opened the door, I walked right through. No strings, no bullshit. Just pure, genuine goodness.
And something dangerous happened - they healed my heart.
You found me broken, and you broke me even more. Even once you knew me, you continued to break me.
These perfect strangers - they didn’t know me. They found me broken and they fixed me. They weren’t even trying. It is because when I stopped trying to fit you into my life, I had more heart space. And these people - their hearts are broken too, just like you. But the hurt didn’t give them permission to hurt me. It made them want to heal.
They just were that good that all thoughts of you faded.
And that is how you left my life. As quietly as you first slipped in. I closed the door just as quietly. I won’t tell you, but you will know. I am guessing you can already feel me gone.
I am not sorry, either.
So, I want you to know that I love you and I always will, but my heart is not your home anymore. My heart is home for many people, and maybe someday - once you have figured out your hurt - maybe then you can find a home here again too.
Writer's Note: As much as I am your everyday photographer, I am also a writer. I always have been, always will be. I am working on three books and have endless characters who are based on twisted manifestations of real life. Sometimes, I write as one of my characters because as a writer, I have to live their lives. Sometimes, I just write from my heart. I'll let you decide which is which as I spend the next year sharing some of my writer's voice.