I’m only just realizing how hard it must be to have read all of those words. All the words I wrote about how much I missed to be with you and how I blamed you for leaving. I know that you never had the intention to hurt me but you did, indirectly. I didn’t like the way my days were going or how I was forced to spend my time on the things I hated most. You didn’t knew that problem, you seemed happy and calm and you enjoyed life way more than I did. Spending time with you and sharing moments made it better for me. You were living proof that things would get better, and they did. I was redeemed for everything I had done, people forgave me for what I had done, I booked more vacations and read more books. I met new people and found love, love in all its ways and forms. But most important, I learned how to live without the idea of you being there for me. I stood on my own.
Yesterday evening I wondered through the city where you worked. The one place were I could always find you. You weren’t there, I knew that. But I didn’t visit to find you. I visited because I wanted to and I wouldnt be limited with the posibility of seeing you again. I woundn’t mind seeing you again, and I wouldn’t mind never seeing you again, because I’ll remember the way you looked, because I wrote so much about you.
It has been a while