I wanted to tell you how much I loved you. I wanted to tell you what you meant to me. I wanted to tell you that our bad times are fading from my memory. I wanted to tell you that good or bad, when we were together, I know I was loved. Instead, when I need them most, words failed me.
It used to be that I blamed you for everything that went wrong. Now, I know that I bear just as much responsibility. It takes two to tango. Etc. No one can make you feel bad without your permission.
It used to be that I regretted ever meeting you. I was so shaken when things ended. I couldn't even think straight. I'd cry. Did I miss you? The idea of you? The smell of you? What was it? It was easy to say "look at all this pain. HE caused it!" I reveled in that pain. Because it was better than feeling nothing. Because the nothingness is terrifying.
I think now, with hindsight, I realize that I am thankful for everything you meant to me. I am grateful for the ridiculously good times we had. And I am grateful for the dizzyingly scary times we had. I grateful for my time with you.
For I truly loved you the most. And I hope where ever you are and whatever you're doing, you're happy. You deserve it.