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Dear Me,
🕊️ A Letter I’ll Never Send
To the boy who made me feel perfect, and the ache he left behind.
Dear Ab,
There was a moment — maybe you’ve forgotten — when you touched me so gently, I almost believed I was safe in your hands. That day, you looked at me like I was everything. You told me I was perfect for you. And for a while, I believed it.
I held on to those words like they were sacred. I replayed your touch in my mind like a prayer. I let myself imagine a version of you that would stay, a version that would love me the way I needed — fully, freely, without fear.
But now… I know.
You’re not ready.You told me that.And even though you said you love me, you said you can’t give me what I want. What I deserve. You were honest, and maybe that’s the kindest thing you could do for me right now. But even honesty doesn’t make the ache any softer.
I think what hurts the most is knowing you’re not cruel. You’re not dismissive. You’re still here — offering me kindness, pieces of yourself. And I’ve been wondering…Should I take them?
But the truth is…What you’re offering might not be enough to feed the kind of love I carry inside me. I am not built for crumbs. I am not made for half-love. I want to be chosen with certainty, not settled for with caution.
I’m writing this to say goodbye — not to you entirely, but to the fantasy I built in your absence.To the version of you that I imagined would one day be ready.To the dream that my love would be enough to change your mind.
I forgive myself for hoping.I forgive you for not staying.And I release you from the story I tried to write around us.
Maybe in another life, we could’ve had more time, less wounds, and softer hearts. But in this one, I choose peace.
Goodbye, Ab.
Love,Miracle
🕊️ A Letter I’ll Never Send
To the boy who made me feel perfect, and the ache he left behind.
Dear Ab,
There was a moment — maybe you’ve forgotten — when you touched me so gently, I almost believed I was safe in your hands. That day, you looked at me like I was everything. You told me I was perfect for you. And for a while, I believed it.
I held on to those words like they were sacred. I replayed your touch in my mind like a prayer. I let myself imagine a version of you that would stay, a version that would love me the way I needed — fully, freely, without fear.
But now… I know.
You’re not ready.You told me that.And even though you said you love me, you said you can’t give me what I want. What I deserve. You were honest, and maybe that’s the kindest thing you could do for me right now. But even honesty doesn’t make the ache any softer.
I think what hurts the most is knowing you’re not cruel. You’re not dismissive. You’re still here — offering me kindness, pieces of yourself. And I’ve been wondering…Should I take them?
But the truth is…What you’re offering might not be enough to feed the kind of love I carry inside me. I am not built for crumbs. I am not made for half-love. I want to be chosen with certainty, not settled for with caution.
I’m writing this to say goodbye — not to you entirely, but to the fantasy I built in your absence.To the version of you that I imagined would one day be ready.To the dream that my love would be enough to change your mind.
I forgive myself for hoping.I forgive you for not staying.And I release you from the story I tried to write around us.
Maybe in another life, we could’ve had more time, less wounds, and softer hearts. But in this one, I choose peace.
Goodbye, Ab.
Love,Miracle
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