in conjunction with: breaking up is hard to do.

we might as well be strangers, keane.

(a post-post-post-post break up letter.)

it doesn't happen too often anymore,  but there are still times that creep up on me, times where for no reason at all really- i miss you - or rather, i miss how it was: how it began, the parts in the middle
where we lived and breathed in each other, soaking up all that we could, which is probably why it never really worked out. but i have to admit, it was sweet while it lasted. somewhere along the way, we fell madly in love with each other, and that's the part i begin to miss; the love we shared, it was real. it was passionate and exciting and thrilling and totally nerve-wracking and terrifying. it made me lose my breath and my concept of steady ground. i miss that level of intimacy: of seeing nothing else, of knowing nothing else, of having that sense of security, of being so sure that our love would save the day. i had the time of my life and i lost myself in it.

it feels like it's been ages, from there to here, but sometimes for brief lapses in the time-space continuum, it feels like it was just yesterday and after all is said and done, now that i'm on the other side of the heartache, i can say with complete resolution that i'm glad you had the strength to walk away and to end it, even though you knew it would break my heart. you accepted the role of the bad guy and you did it because you loved me enough to let me go. you knew that i needed to go figure myself out, independent of anyone, including you and, i can't thank you enough for what you've given to me by way of what you had to take away from me.

and so here i find myself, all grown up and with the strength to say that:
i love the memory of you enough to let it go.
cut scene.
roll credits.
end.
t.