I think I was supposed to not talk about it. Or if I did, tone it down a bit.

But I honestly don’t want to tone it down. I want this to be as raw and as genuine as possible, which is why I’m writing this at six in the morning.

Here we go.

I’ll start with the obvious: although I didn’t really want the outcome to be this one, I never wanted us to “hate” each other or bring the worst of ourselves. So, in a sense, and maybe just for me, I’m “glad” we put a full stop on our story before we could become each other’s persona non grata.

It doesn’t mean I’m happy we had to end so that we didn’t eat up what was left of ourselves in the process.

Now, before I start with the good stuff, I need to say I understand that you didn’t really mean part of what you said to me yesterday. Well… Maybe you meant the message itself, but not how you delivered it. It could be naive of me to think so, but I do hope you didn’t want to say “better find a new place fast, because I don’t wanna see your face again”. I get the message—I really do—but I’m not sure you meant to say it that way. One can only hope, right? And no, I’m not playing the victim here. You have the right to think, do or say whatever you want. That’s one thing no one can, or should, take away from you.

I won’t pretend I’m not hurt. I won’t pretend that that didn’t hurt. Not because I’m not giving you the benefit of the doubt—on the contrary. I get that when we are hurt, we say hurtful things just to get a bit of self-respect back—or at least that’s what we tell ourselves. As if tossing sharp words around could somehow heal part of the dread we are feeling inside. It’s bullshit, but we try it anyway. So, no, I won’t hold it against you. It stings more than you think, but I get it, and I respect that.

With that out of the way… Finally, the good stuff now.

Regardless of the outcome, I want to say you brought out the best in me most of the time. And you reignited a flame inside of me that had been too dimmed for way too long. I will always be grateful for that. I’m naming this flame ambition at this time. But maybe in the future I’ll rebrand it as something else? As we look back sometime down the road, things often take different shapes and forms. Colours get more or less saturated. And we see more clearly than before. This is probably what we call growing up after all.

I’ll miss your laugh. You know, that one I say you do like your mum—you shrug and move your head forwards a bit. It’s very sweet and looks so genuine. It’s like watching you with no filters, no hurt, no façade. It’s just you, and it’s beautiful.

I’ll also miss our friendship—the good and the bad of it. We were partners in crime, and, when it worked, I had this feeling we were unstoppable.

For the next few weeks, it’ll be a bit awkward. Feelings will be a bit too raw, and we’ll no longer know how to behave around each other. I’m telling you this because it’s your first time. And hopefully the last! It’s a special kind of awful, and I don’t wish this on my fiercest enemy.

Just try not to play it too cool, okay? As if you don’t care. It’s fine to care. We’re both grieving here. And please, don’t take this as me trying to tell you what to do. If anything, it’s advice, if I still have the right to offer one. Most of my regrets come from this stage in a relationship.

At last, and maybe if you’d ever read this, you’d probably roll your eyes and say I’m not playing fair. And I swear I don’t mean any of this to try to fix anything—it is, indeed, best to stop now.

I still haven’t figured out the colour of your eyes. And I guess I never will. We’ve always joked that the boys had gorgeous eyes. Well, that is true, but it doesn’t mean yours aren’t. Honestly, I’d say they are mostly brown. However, if the sun hits the right angle, you can see a bit of gold and some hints of green—like a hidden forest that shows up now and then before fading away once again.

I decided, at this very moment, that in all my memories of you, from now on, your eyes will dress that colour—an ode to the good times rather than a vain choice of mine, I swear.

Please, make sure to have a great life. I’ll try the same on my side, pinky promise.

When we turn our corners, we won’t be able to spot each other anymore. It’s gonna sting, but it will help the healing.

Then, at some point, the bad stuff will fade away…

And we’ll meet someone else.

In due course, we’ll be nothing but a flicker—if anything—in each other’s heads. A bunch of mixed memories that will blend and become less clear as time flows. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I am sorry that it didn’t work out—that “us” didn’t, that is. It’s frustrating that we didn’t find the sweet spot in our recipe. Something went stale, and now it just tastes wrong. And it really, really is terribly sad.

But know that at some point, it was just perfect.

The sweetest thing for me.

I’ll stick with that, mostly because my heart doesn’t have room for hate towards you. I won’t allow that, no matter what happens next.

I love you—I really do.

Believe it or not—that is up to you.

I’ll miss you on my birthdays, and it annoys me that I won’t be attending yours.

And with this, I think I said enough.

Now we say our goodbyes.

It was a great journey, kind sir.

It just ended short, but it’s best this way.