I don't know if you'll ever open this. But some things are truer when they're said anyway. So here it is — three years, in cyan and yellow.
I'm not writing this to convince you of anything. I just wanted one place where everything I feel is in one spot, instead of scattered across old messages and things I said badly at the wrong time.
Three years is a long time to know someone's laugh well enough to hear it in your head on a normal Tuesday. It's a long time to build something, break it, and go back for the pieces — more than once.
I made mistakes. Real ones. I hurt you, and then instead of being honest with you when it mattered most, I let you find things out instead of telling you myself. That wasn't fair to you, and I'm not going to dress it up as anything other than what it was.
I'm not asking you to forget any of that. I'm just telling you — plainly, without a script — that I miss you. Not the idea of you. You. Your voice when you're annoyed at me. The way you'd call me at odd hours for no reason at all. Gudiya, specifically.
Whatever you decide, wherever you are with someone else or with yourself — I want you to be okay. That's not a line. I mean it.
— still yours, if you ever want that
This page isn't a deadline or a guilt trip. It's just me putting down, honestly, what three years meant to me — and letting you do whatever you need to do with that.
The version of me that hurt you wasn't who I want to be. I'm not going to make excuses for it here — just tell you I see it clearly now.
If it's someone else now, I want you to be happy — genuinely. I'd rather know you're okay than know you're mine.
No pressure attached. Just an open door, same as it's always been for you.
I loved you. I love you now. And whatever happens, some part of me will always be glad it was you.