Please help me. I can’t take it. Nothing is helping. Maximum dosage of new antidepressants, therapy, concerts, success at work and I only think about us.
I can’t accept the unfairness of it all because you left me for something I did not ever even think about doing. If you didn’t love me, I would eventually accept that but I know in my bones that you do love me.

You may never get the apology. You may never know whether they regret what they did, think about the pain they caused, or understand the weight of their actions. But that does not mean they simply get away with it.

People can suppress what they have done, deny it, justify it, rewrite the story, shift the blame onto you for their misbehavior, or convince themselves they were right. They can move on as though nothing happened, but somewhere within them, they still have to live with who they chose to be and what they chose to do.

We may silence our conscience, but we cannot completely erase our memory. The subconscious remembers what the mind tries to bury—the choices we made, the people we hurt, the lines we crossed, and the things we know deep down we should have done differently.

And maybe that's worth remembering when you feel like someone hurt you and walked away untouched. You don't have to witness their guilt for it to exist, and you don't need their remorse to validate what happened to you. Some consequences are invisible. Sometimes, the consequence is simply having to live with the knowledge of who they are and the choices they made when they had the chance to do better.

None of us really get away with anything. We may escape accountability from other people, but we cannot always escape ourselves. Eventually, we have to live with our choices—and with the person those choices reveal us to be.

So if you're still waiting for closure, remember: you may never witness their regret or receive the apology you deserved. But their silence does not erase what happened, and their denial does not change the truth.

Let them carry whatever they have chosen to carry. You don't have to carry it for them.

But accountability goes both ways.

And if you're the one who caused the damage, have the courage to take accountability. Make things right and apologize, even if you're unsure whether you'll be forgiven or given another chance. Your trauma, messy childhood, unresolved issues, or painful experiences may help explain your behavior, but they do not excuse the harm you cause. Stop blaming the other person, making excuses, or playing the victim to avoid facing what you did. Your pain is not a free pass to hurt someone else. Take responsibility for the hurt you caused, respect their boundaries, and accept that they have the right to decide what happens next. You may not be forgiven, and you may not get another chance—but taking accountability means accepting that without using it as an excuse to avoid doing what is right.

That is emotional maturity. That is accountability.

Yeah when it happened I didn’t know there was one before . But multiple times when out of all just everything you were, you were there when I never asked you to be. I felt terrible when I woke you in the middle of the night because of what happened but it’s just , it was just you and who you are to me why and how you responded to it maybe cause you were half asleep too lol idk but you just were and I was overwhelmed with what had just happened but also felt so loved and happy that you were there with me in that moment.

I don’t understand everything and that’s okay but I know that if it was to ever I know that that’s a big part of what that it even though most of the time it’s the other way around. But that’s what I know and hope for. And to just be part of that because that’s part of what support is. I think about what you told me a long time ago about that time before but with me that’s why I know that with the few people I have been there for and felt like I did something for them even if they didn’t necessarily ask for my help but I know that might be what part of my purpose might be here is to somehow be something that with people I might in my life and people like meeting you and the significance you’ve brought to my life as to why he especially put me in you’re for maybe that same reason and that there is for you .

i don't have much else to say until we get together, other than it's tiring being without you in this.

You don't need to know this, which is why I'm writing it from a completely random profile in a sub I've never once posted in before…

but…

Today is apparently our "Facebook friend anniversary"! Yippee! Okay, you can know that part. It's what that reminded me of that you don't need to…

The last time I ever initiated sex with her was probably not all that long after now, however many years ago. The night of the birthday party. You know, the one where you looked so goddamn pretty with all those little fires glowing?

Yeah. I was already not sleeping that night because of that. But then, somewhere right around 2am…

You tapped the heart button on some weeks old FB post of mine.

And I dunno what it was about just that silly little heart… I mean, my frickin' boss gives me hearts on things FFS, but…

Fuck. It kicked me into overdrive.

For a minute there, I'm not even sure I even cared what I was… you know… doing. I just had to… do… something.

And, so there she was.

So… I woke her up. Did the thing. Aaaaaand…

then spent the rest of the night feeling miserable about it.

Oh, it was so fucked up.

So fucked up.

I felt guilty about "cheating" on you.

I felt guilty that you were where all that energy came from.

omg, I had never…

I was gonna be a "married forever" guy.

I mean, ok, sure… that particular dream already got all nice and crackled when she went and actually fucked some other dude.

But still.

Anyways. Boy howdy.

It's been a road since then.

And you know by now that I'm a horny mofo.

Still, though.

I can't do it. Not anymore. Not with her.

So I haven't initiated. Not since then.

And she has the libido of a soggy cracker someone dropped into the kitchen sink somehow, sooooo…

Yeah. Basically no sex. For, what… seven years now?

Fuck, man.

When you and I both finally slip these fuckin' chains…

(not that you're trying, no, I know, I get it, I understand your history very well, and as much as I would love to see you free, even if not with me… I know it's, like, super extra double complicated for you… just as it is for me, even if our reasons are worlds apart… but, man, what a side-track…)

When we finally get together. When I'm finally allowed to actually touch you…

Holy fuck.

We're going to set the world on fire.

I guarantee it.

Anyhoo.

Dear ████████, It feels strange to write these words knowing that you won’t read them until I’m already on my way back to Santa Catarina. During these days together, I found myself wondering several times what it would be like to simply not go back right now… to stay longer, live in the same city, and recapture everything we experienced when we were younger. However, we’ve both matured enough to know that things aren’t that simple and that every choice has its consequences.

Over the past seven years, I’ve reimagined this reunion thousands of times. I’ve created both realistic and completely fantastical scenarios in my head. Although part of me thought it was impossible, another part never lost hope. And that part was right. After all, here I am, handing this letter to you in person.

████████, do you have any idea how much I value your presence? Even if you sometimes doubt it. These two days by your side have been some of the most precious moments I’ve experienced in recent years. I’m glad we think and feel in such similar ways… that way I know that, at this very moment, we’re experiencing very similar emotions—whether we’re smiling, crying, or simply paralyzed by the intensity of what we’re feeling.

For a long time, I went through a mix of emotions thinking about this reunion. At first, I tried to go about my life normally, as if the trip were just another commitment. I even asked you to stay calm a few times when your anxiety flared up. But deep down, I was anxious too. I made a thousand plans, built up expectations… and I confess that at times I even wished none of this would happen, afraid I wouldn’t be able to live up to what you expected of me.

I know, I was a fool. But that just proves I’m as human as you are, full of insecurities and mistakes. Still, there’s one thing I need to confess: our connection these past few days has helped me keep my head on straight. And here we are.

Right now, I don’t even know how to write so rationally anymore, so I’m just going to let everything I’m feeling pour out. This is the gift I’m giving you for our closeness: total sincerity.

These past seven years haven’t been easy. At times, I really thought our story had ended on a sad note… as if the incredible ████████ had simply vanished from my life.

Yes, I’ll always emphasize just how incredible you are. We all have flaws, but that doesn’t take away from what makes you special. And how I loved being wrong.

Your letter in 2022 saved a lot. Your sincerity and the fact that you reached out to me helped me through many difficult moments. Remember when, in 2020, you texted me saying that “bye” sounded like a Russian word? Or when we used to joke that I was Captain America and you were Black Widow? It made perfect sense at the time. You thought I was unbeatable, and I thought you were capable of anything. Above all, we were great friends. Looking back on all those moments makes me realize just how incredible it is that our friendship has survived so many obstacles. It reminds me exactly why I decided to build a friendship so strong that it’s sometimes mistaken for a sibling bond. I still remember how it all began: through another story.

When I told you about my late sister, you felt compelled to be my older sister—even though you’re younger than me. That care became so real that it turned into almost a sisterly devotion. I’ve never shown you just how grateful I am for that. I know I’m sometimes terrible at expressing certain feelings, but I’ve been working on it for years. I hope that over these past two days you’ve felt some result of that effort. Paul said that faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. It is with this faith that I’m certain these days were good—not just out of hope, but because I know you and know exactly how I feel about you. I sincerely hope that I was able to convey everything that

I see things differently. Always have, even before i knew what this 'lens' was.

I saw something on TV. The world sees a thief, pointing their pitchforks as they yelp under a very mediocre level of influence.

I see someone who perhaps found themselves somewhere foreign, dark—they made a choice, maybe another choice after that one. Their destination, not point A, vastly different and probably closer to G.

Wait til you get your 5th broadcast, where one is then awarded a plastic drink bottle from them. Come see my Tupperware collection one day.

I've been where you are. I have been there many many years. Alone. I found solace only briefly in the demon drink. Was never violent, only sad, depressed. Some saw this as opportunity to take further advantage, identifying the financial incentive (another economical masterpiece of our beloved elected leaders), they made a quick buck here and there, a new TV here, a trip oversedas there... while I lost my soul, destroyed who the remnants of who I was, defied principles.

I had nothing at one point. Started to go back to study. Not sure about it anymore. I think I hate people too much.

I tried doing the unthinkable, 3 times so far. Went to do it for the fourth the other weekend, however Lucifer was not ready for me just yet—fair.

Identity - gone.

Everything I worked for - gone.

I still often wake up morning, bittersweet. The sunrise is nice, yet dang, I survived another night.

I don't know what happened with us. I do want to find out. I thought it was real in parts, those were the times I felt like my old self again, the one I was known for. I'm nothing now. My family don't invite me to things. They're proud of themselves and don't want the association. I never liked them anyway. The other half of the family already left this earth too young unfortunately. In the meantime everyday is treading water. Marking time. Til the final fallout.

You have someone here potentially with unconditional love and support. But you're going to have to show me something. I've been ambushed before by you, dragged back into a world accompanied with habits and traits that defy and broke my spirit once. There are no guarantees with this now, maybe it works, maybe not. I never got closure, and have questions as you may also. I can't be fooled again.

In person... where and when?

Him.

I don’t really know what I’m trying to say to you.

Sometimes I’m frustrated with you. Sometimes you frustrate the hell out of me. And I know you probably feel the same way about me. I know you get frustrated with everyone. I think that’s just what happens when you’re human and you’re around people long enough. We disappoint each other. We misunderstand each other. We get on each other’s nerves. Sometimes we don’t know how to be what the other person needs.

But there’s something you don’t know.

Something you probably couldn’t know, because I don’t think I’ve ever really said it.

I’m glad you’re in my life.

I’m glad I’ve had the chance to know you. To watch you. To learn from you, even in ways you probably never intended.

You’ve shown me something about discipline. About consistency. About stability. About just… showing up. There’s something about the way you are that has made me think about those things differently. And I don’t think you realize how much that has affected me.

I’m trying to learn some of that for myself.

I’m trying to become someone who can be steady. Someone who can trust herself. Someone who doesn’t need everything to be perfect or everyone to understand her in order to keep going.

Maybe you have no idea that you’ve helped me with that.

Maybe you never will.

But I want to put it somewhere, even if the only place it ever exists is here, on a piece of paper I eventually burn.

Thank you.

Thank you for your patience with me. Thank you for the things you’ve taught me without even realizing you were teaching me. Thank you for being exactly who you are, even when I don’t understand you and even when I’m frustrated with you.

I don’t know what place I’m supposed to have in your life, or what place you’re supposed to have in mine.

I just know that you matter to me.

Probably more than you know.

And I needed to say that somewhere.

The last few months, I’ve tried so hard to be happy to the best of my ability. I struggle on a daily basis to even function. I try to tell you in the most subtle way because I don’t want to admit to you that I’m falling to the deep end again. The feeling never really goes away. You can get better. You can get medicated, but it always comes back. More recently it’s been so hard. How do you explain to the people you love that you can’t even think without hating yourself in some way. I never can explain how it actually feels. How do you explain to someone that you feel like you’re drowning not hopeless and not just sad. I’m at a point that I feel like I’m just sitting underwater and it’s so hard to go up. I get so close to the surface and then I sink. You work so hard to get to a point that you don’t want to hate yourself. You don’t want to think the way you are. It’s hard to explain it to someone who has never experienced it. I would never wish it upon anybody to feel the way that I feel now I just wish my family and everyone understood how I actually feel.

I would call you all family… but these days you’re just my blood. That doesn’t make you family. I watched each one of you, intentionally hurt me.. and the pointed to laugh at me while I sat in agony.

You wanted to take the only thing that mattered to me, my children. And that made you feel superior. Many nights while I slept in my car, wondering why I wasn’t wanted at the family gatherings.. simply because I refused to play the role you all assigned me. It didn’t make sense to me… and now I see.. why you aren’t meant to sit at my future table.

I forgive you all.. but I won’t forget the pain you all caused me when I was at my lowest. Now is when I say goodbye. But not because I hate you, I don’t. I’m just finally choosing myself. I have too much love in my heart to let any of you drain it or my purpose in life. Thanks for the 34 years of memories.. but I’m no longer the woman you remember. And she’s not coming back this time.

u are like some kind of parasite in my head.. idk how to shut u off, i'm not trying to make myself look like a victim of my feelings or anything like that.. it would clearly be easier to justify myself by saying: what can I do? this is stronger than me, and give in to my feelings and my desire because it's much more comfortable... but I'm not that kind of person and that's not what I'm doing.. I've tried (and I'll keep trying) everything to get u out of my system, I don't look u in the eye, I don't talk to u unless it's strictly necessary.. if u say something, I respond, but I don't look at u. I've ignored ur calls and messages (and I'll keep doing so), but this is consuming me.. I don't want to feel this.. and honestly idk what else to do.. and your fuckin' face keeps showing up in my mind.

Whether I'd have been the man beside you, or the drunk getting kicked out for pissing off the geese, or absent entirely.

I always wanted you to know I'd have cheered you, celebrated you, because that's just who I am.

The impression I chose to make in staying in something my heart of hearts told me I needed space from, time to reflect, time to feel adjacent from the brown eyes spikey haired midget I'd come to see felt so much that I could ever put into words.

Hearing emotions and feelings put to words like nothing, when those feelings dodged verbal dictionizing.

I miss you and I have no right, I still check in to see a smile old or new, but I know where I let things rot, and I won't disrespect the kindness and companionship I'd once been given the same way I did what we both called love.

I was such a hypocrite it makes me laugh, because I saw myself as better then thou, pausing and almost recoil from what I'd seen as social or emotional naivety only to that shattering perception and reality split what I'd once have called a good man in twain.

I'm ok, I'm not upset nor bitter, because I had an entire relationship to be that way, now I just mourn, mourn the message never received, the actions I always took tut the words that never followed or propped them up.

And the promises and speeches I made only to fall back into the fog, living to serve, living to please, was no way for two people to live in service to eachother, whether from guilt, love or otherwise, I had no right to take from you when my only boundary, the truth cost you so much pain.

I wasn't controlling at first, but absolute power corrupts absolutely. And I hope for both our sakes nobody ever hands me those reigns as you once did.

Love has many forms but the one I hold for you isn't one that changed even if my words and actions did, that's why I'm a threat and I'm sorry.

I wish I knew how things were from your perspective so I can represent the situation correctly. If you saw a friendship, where I saw a relationship.. could you tell me your perspective? I want to honor you and make sure I’m listening to how you saw it as well. Maybe now is when I ask the question I’ve wondered for an entire year: and if you don’t want to answer me right now that’s okay too. But just know, I’m genuinely curious. I think that would help me better commit to what I think to be true. Either way I’ve found healing, but this is something I think I’ve been afraid to ask so it remains unsent 🙃

To N from J

Like glue, thats how we were. The second we locked eyes we never stopped looking. The second I grabbed your hand you never let go. Your hand in mine, my hand in yours. We held on tight that winter hibernating in my bed. Each depressed but for different reasons neither of us were willing to talk about. How could we? We just met. All we both knew in that moment is that we needed each other.

It’s ironic that the saddest moments I recall become my happiest with you. I felt everything in those moments were genuine. I’ll never forget the way you first looked at me with those big brown eyes. Mesmerizing, bright, and deep down screaming for real connection. You never had to say the words, I just knew because I had always felt the same way.

Over time I got see all the different sides of you. Some I’m still madly in love with. The others? They can’t stand me. They hurt me whenever the opportunity arises. Still I don’t hate those sides of you.

I’m not sure if you put a spell on me because I don’t think I’ll ever be truly upset with you. I can’t even think of the word hate. It’s too string of a word. I cant even think back to that cold winter where we held on as tight as we could. Depressive moments that are now happy thoughts eventually turn back to depression.

I have no choice but to let go. In the near distance is a fork in the road and both options lead to misery. Has anyone ever thought of just turning back? Not in time but turning back so that I can still remember all that has happened. I don’t ever want to forget.

I’m a morning person but with you I’m a night owl. The countless nights of infinite conversation and never ending laughter is my favourite part of us. That part I choose to cherish. Separated from all the bad. I refuse to mix the two!

Some days we would constantly fight but as soon as the sun went down we always said our sorries and got back to basics. The basics are all that ever mattered to either of us anyways. That was us at our core. Two individuals raw, unfiltered, and accepting. Best friends during the night? That’s partly correct. I don’t think the term best friends fully describes our connection during those finite moments. I don’t know if there is a description for us.

Regardless! Through all the hardships I choose to go to sleep or daydream thinking about those nights.

As the cold ground defrosted, tree’s began to blossom. I fear to admit that our relationship didn’t. You never told me those words but just like those eyes of yours I could feel it.

My heart still screams for you in every waking moment. Has never missed a beat. It’s why even tho we don’t talk anymore I know somewhere you’re still listening. I know you will someday read this and know I’m talking about you. Just like those eyes of yours.

Summer’s almost over, it’s time to hibernate again.

This is my final message. Stay warm this winter. ❤️

I’m in some ways forever yours:
J

You'd think after years of trying to get you to recover you wouldn't chug vodka bottles in your car.

You'd think after getting a DUI you wouldn't continue to insist you can drive under the influence.

You'd think after going through a rehab program you wouldn't scream and wail like a child for your cell phone so you can hit the bars as the soon only parent in the house before the other goes to work.

You'd think after not getting an Uber you wouldn't go through the lengths of trying to walk to said bar with empty threats of divorce and police on the line from your tired partner.

You'd think after hearing audios of your verbal abuse you wouldn't use the same low blows and dirty insults that you always used to use when in those moods.

You'd think after years of torture and suffering, you wouldn't have drunken meltdown after meltdown after meltdown.

You'd think you wouldn't be having one now.

You'd think after ending up bloody in the snow and then emergency room on your last run away bar crawl you wouldn't have to be chased outside and brought back in the house.

You'd think you wouldn't be making your youngest child cry watching you do everything in your power to get to the bar.

You'd think you wouldn't choose the bar over your family.

You'd think you wouldn't be continuing to try to run away right now.

You'd think.

And I really hate how cowardly you are. Stop hiding and ask me how I’m doing or I’ll rip your clothes off myself !!

I am a ghost. I always will be. I fight for everything and everyone just to be forgotten and left behind. The only reason I don’t hang myself in my closet everyday is because I want to make it become rich just to see the faces of everyone who forgot about me before I finally dove head first off a cliff. I don’t care about dying anymore. I stopped caring about living. I’m tired of giving myself to everything and everyone just to be left with nothing. There’s not enough left for me to stand on anymore.
I hate you especially S. More than anything. I helped you through the depression and heartbreak of someone else that you didn’t even tell me the truth about all just to break me and act like I meant nothing. Even now even after I finally left you my love, you still make me feel empty and alone. You made me feel exactly how you did when I first met you and I hate you for it. You took the bits of joy and peace I found for myself after years of clawing my way out of this deep water that’s always flooding me. I hate you. You couldn’t even look me in the eyes tell me to my face you never loved me. You just acted nonchalant like I was just tripping over spilled water. And you are a coward. Even now I care. And I hate that I do. I will all I felt towards you was hatred. I hate that the person I fell in love with isn’t real just a mask you wore. I genuinely hate you and hope I forget about you.
You topped it over the edge for me and I wish I never met you. You’re a piece of s\*\*\* for making me grieve this fake ass relationship we had. Glad you’re finally happy tho. I really am. Leaving you was the only thing I ever did right. I hate my family too. So many of them and I feel so alone. I just wanted someone who cared as much about me as I do them. I will never be so weak again to care. Never again. I’m better off just dead instead of just hating myself everyday but I promised myself I wouldn’t try to commit suicide again.

What's with the Facebook dating? You told me that we were good and that you weren't on any dating sites. Turns out, you lied one more time. How am I supposed to trust you? You're such a fucking liar.

Cowards, the both of us…

Too afraid to stay. Too afraid to leave.
So we lingered in the space between longing and goodbye,
pretending silence hurt less than honesty,
while love slowly became something we mourned instead of lived.

Things were going well. We have been getting along as friends. You said you want to be in your son's life full time, get a job, and get a house with us. Now, you say as soon as your car is running, you're leaving town...so, I guess I don't need to look for a place right now, and can save my money for a bit longer, and stay with my mom.

I keep thinking about you, but in the calmest way. You just pop up in my head as I go about my day. And you give me so many good things to remember; things that I can replay in my head and smile about. One of my favorite moments is when you pop through the double doors, it's like I'm seeing you for the first time all over again; my gaze lingers for a few seconds longer, admiring the beauty of you. I remember the first day I saw you, I was a little star struck, as if my heart recognized you. It's always the first few seconds, like I forgot what you look like and I get to remember it all over again, like I get a nice reminder that you exist.

The moments you've given me to smile about are so simple and I love it. It's when you call me "lady" and make me feel soft. It's when you smile your big charming smile. It's the sound of your laughter. It's the moments when we lock eyes. It's when you imitate me to pick on me. It's the way we banter and horseplay. It's when you stand close to me to show you a video. It's when you grab my wrist to cover it in chicken grease because I teased you about a comment you made. It's the way we keep rolling our inside jokes. It's the way you pick on me to get my attention. It's the way you say my name and let it linger a little longer than most. It's when you send me hearts in your messages and show your softness. It's the way you respect my boundaries, the way you respect my pace. It's the way you're imperfect and not trying to impress me.

You feel real. I like that you feel real.

We're taking it slow and I like every second. This feels grounded and I really appreciate it. Do you know any of this, right now? No.. not fully. You seem to shy away a little when things get a little emotionally heavy; that's okay, I'll hold back until you're ready to get more serious. It's still early and we're having fun with it. Hopefully this can grow into something beautiful. I'm not worried about you, I'm excited about you. ♥︎

I spent so much time trying to understand why a simple, honest conversation felt like pulling teeth, but I see it clearly now: facing what happened forces you to look at who you were when you did it, and you would rather let me carry the wreckage than look at your own hands. I kept coming back because I thought our history meant something.

I believed that every sacrifice, every heavy load carried while holding our life together, and every single thing we built from the ground up had earned us the right to the truth. I thought that when you break something between two people who poured their entire lives into the same foundation, you get down on your knees and help pick up the pieces. Instead, you stood back and made my grief the actual offense. You turned my reaction into the crime.

You picked apart my tone, dissected my timing, and treated my hurt like an inconvenience you shouldn't have to deal with. Standing in front of the person who is supposed to know you best, watching them deliberately choose not to understand just to protect their pride, is a quiet kind of devastation. You made me feel like I was crazy for remembering the truth. You let me sit in the exhausting loneliness of carrying the wound, the history, and the blame for daring to speak.

You called it wanting peace, but it was never peace. It was compliance. You wanted a quiet room bought with my swallowed dignity. As long as I kept showing up, doing the work, and pretending the foundation wasn't cracked, everything was fine. But the second I asked for accountability, I was suddenly the one "disturbing the peace." You were just waiting for me to get tired enough to stop asking you to face yourself. I know what real grace looks like, and I know what it costs.

Grace isn't pretending the fire didn't burn; grace is having the courage to stand in the ashes together so you can rebuild. But you cannot heal what you refuse to acknowledge. Keeping silent doesn't make the hurt disappear—it only demands that I abandon myself to keep you comfortable. And I am finally done disappearing just to keep an illusion alive.

Once respect disappears, the rest falls with it. The attraction dies, the affection quietly fades, and you become just another ordinary person in a crowded room.
I can never trust you again—not because I’m consumed by bitterness, but because you demonstrated that your character shifts whenever convenience demands it. I exhausted every ounce of myself handing out second chances, persistently painting your red flags white just to keep you inside the picture. I gave everything to make it work, but you refused to do right by me. You took someone who was entirely all-in, openhearted and loyal, and methodically taught her how to master indifference.
And truthfully, I don’t carry any hate for you. Hate requires passion. Hate is an expensive emotional investment, and my bank is permanently closed. I don't wish you pain, nor do I want to see you fail. I actually hope you win. I hope you finally become the person you spent so much energy pretending to be. You just have to do that work far away from me, on the other side of the peace I rebuilt with my own two hands.
Consider yourself officially evicted from my energy.
I forgive you. Truly. I am crossing out the ledger and canceling the debt, but forgiveness has never meant granting reentry. It simply means I am done showing up to collect on a promise you were never capable of keeping. I can never look at you the same way again. The person I loved doesn't exist anymore; standing in front of me is just a stranger wearing a familiar face.
There is no bad blood here. The bridge doesn't even need to burn—it is simply closed. I have finally learned when to stop walking down paths that lead nowhere.