I hope you don’t think about me. I hope the memories we share no longer run through your body like shards of glass. I hope your heart never aches for the sound of my voice.
I hope the cardboard moving boxes that fill up the room we used to hide under the covers in do not bring my scent into the air and my smile to your mind. More than anything, though, I hope you cherish who we grew to become together but cling more desperately to the man and woman we perpetually and intentionally choose to become apart.
Please take a look into your future and choose to see beyond the void I once filled; see yourself accomplishing more than you ever thought possible.
The love I have toward you is quite the unique love now. I wish to be a part of your story in some capacity and I wish I could be the woman you wanted me to be; the heroine you made me out to be. But you can’t un-write the harmony of a hurricane that I am. We’re different now. Older. Wiser. Better. Separate from one another, creating the lives we were intended for.
I used to say I’ll always love you and I used to mean it. I was sure there would always be a timeless chapter in my story with your name on it. It’d be the one I’d read on rainy days of reminiscing; the one my daughters will hear about in the midst of their first heartbreak. I’m learning however that you are a moment in my past: one that will not influence my future. You are a significant moment, but a moment nonetheless. You’re not my whole story. And I’m not yours.
I hope you don’t reserve room in your heart for me, because somewhere in the gorgeous universe is the person with whom I’ll adventure through the rest of my days; the person who’s world will collide with mine; the person with whom I’ll laugh with forever; the person I’ll weather the storms and share life with, all of it.
Though the love we shared was enough to bring us together it was not enough to keep us there. It didn’t move us or challenge us. It didn’t inspire us to be better for one another. And that is not the love I would ever choose eternally. I cannot say I’m sorry to realize that our fluent love, respect, and admiration for each other are not enough. If I won’t run to the ends of the universe for us, it is not the love worth fighting for.
You will meet the person that makes gravity a fake because she is now the force that keeps your feet on the ground and head in the clouds. Hers is the heartbeat that will guide you to the sweetest slumber. The sound of her voice will flow into your ears like ocean waves that kiss the shore and guide your heart toward home. I am not that girl. The waters in my ocean are far too wavy for the peaceful glass-top your soul prefers. I give you permission to let me go with full confidence that you will find the way to your gravity.
With numbered days of loving you,