This is probably going to be one of the last letters to you. While I know the truth now, I still have that uncertainty in me in terms of writing. As I have told you over and over, you’re not easy to forget. And as my memory has served me for years on end, you’re likely to stay for a very long time.
It was inevitable for me to get hurt, and yes it did hurt, knowing that I had hoped for so long that finally, you were someone that I was capable of saving. The tears I have shed were a manifestation that you were someone I truly and deeply cared about. I sometimes wished that you were someone I picked out of the crowd to like out of convenience because it was easier, it was less painful. But no, it had to be you. It had to be the one person I never expected to care for, the person that I never knew would come back. And all I knew about re-returning was that it would be painful the second time around, like the way it happened years ago.
But you were the difference in the sea of similarity, and even if my eyes aren’t as sharp to spot the odd ones out, you shone on your own without even trying. You cared for me reasonably enough, our conversations went hours on end, and the list goes on. I wish you knew how much you meant to me, that at one point you were the world to me. The problem was, this was a story I still knew best. I was hoping for a surprise, but I know that some dreams don’t come true, and this was one of those dreams.
Despite that, I want you to know that I’ll always care, that I’ll always be there for you anyway. I know I said that I’d rather pull away and distance myself, but knowing you, it’s hard to do so. I’ll be okay eventually, and I hope you know that. I hope you know that even if you think the worst of yourself, I really want you to know that you have always been enough for me–that you as just you was already enough. You didn’t have to change, you don’t need to. You just have to know that at some point, you will get over this slump, and I will still be there to help you. Why? Because that’s who I am.