Hey,

Should I say hey or should I say hello? Over the years, I've thought of hello as more aggressive than hi. Hello felt like a warning more than a greeting.

So now, when I say hello, I mean:

“Helllo” — you better hear me. 

“Helllo” — what’s going on? 

“Helllo” — I don’t understand. 

“Helllo” — the word before a confrontation.

But this, this is far from a confrontation. This is a conversation with myself. With the imaginary you that’s followed me around for over a year, slipping into my thoughts in the most vulnerable ways, in times of anger, defeat, weakness, and even strength. You’ve found a way to wrap your hands around my brain, around the thoughts I protect the most.

To that, I say: I’m tired.

I’m tired of going to bed thinking of you. 

I’m tired of slipping in and out of consciousness and forgetting that you are far from my reality. I’m tired of believing that there will ever be any time again where you exist in my world.

And today, I lift myself from the burden, this yoke I willingly laid on myself.

I let go of the memories of you that never happened, that only exist because I made them up. I let go of the idea of you as kind and loving, and I make peace with who you really were to me in this realm: A cold, isolating bastard.

Have I ever felt more frustrated? Have I ever felt more naked? More unwrapped? Completely seen?

Have I?

I haven’t. But I remember these moments with a twinge of shame. I remember them wishing I don't. 

But I console myself with this truth.

You showed me how deeply I could love. You showed me the capacity I had to feel something inside me so unfamiliar, yet warm and exciting. A feeling I longed for, wished for. A feeling I thought I could live in forever.

It didn’t matter to me when you didn’t call back. It didn’t matter when I noticed the dopamine-chase pattern. It didn’t matter that I watered down my thoughts, was less excited, more cheerful, grateful for five minutes together, happy for a callback, responsive, obedient.

None of that mattered. What mattered was that, for the first time in years, in forever, I could feel something again.

But in all of this, I’ve learned.

I’ve learned the depth of joy, happiness, and connection I carry, not just for myself, but for others I love. And for that, I’ll be grateful to you. Grateful for the writing tips. For teaching me how to reread things even with a busy schedule. For giving me, in your own way, the practical lesson of boundaries, not just theoretical ones, but real, physical ones.

You know, Before you I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I knew how to move. How to call the shots. Cut the rope. End things clean, without empathy.

But the day you didn’t text back after we just saw each other, I said, “He’s always busy.” A small voice in my head said, “You’re making excuses.” But I responded, “Give him grace.”

The time you fixed a date the same day you expected me to be out? I should have ignored you. But I thought, “You want to see him, right? So just do it.”

And the day you whispered and asked me to sleep over... Lord, did I know I wasn’t supposed to and I did it anyway.

So when I’m annoyed at you, please remember: To you, it might just be annoyance. To me, it’s disappointment, disappointment in myself.

Disappointment that I didn’t love myself as much as I thought. Disappointment in my inability to establish boundaries. To be who I said I was. To be who I thought I was.

To watch myself unravel as this weak woman, a version of me that is far from who I know.

And maybe one day, I’ll read this and laugh. Or cry.

But today, I remind myself: Loving and being vulnerable is not weakness even though it felt like it.

Even though it still feels like it. I have to repeat this to myself, over and over, until I believe it.

I won’t give you the power to shut me down.

Just because it felt wrong with you, doesn’t make it wrong.

I will remain open. 

Kind. 

Loving. 

Vulnerable.

I will laugh out loud, speak my mind, get excited, and make compromises for the people I care about.

I refuse to let you decide that I don’t.

So take care.

Do what you love

And let me love others without comparing them to you. 

Let me laugh without thinking of you.

Let me kiss without seeing your face. 

Let me love and make compromises without believing it's a mistake because of you.

Let me be.