I had this beautiful dream about you. About old times.
But this could be it.
It’s strange to think how long it’s been, and how small you have become in my heart. It’s not your fault; time just has a way of doing this.
I’m home, and I haven’t really told anyone yet. I probably will tomorrow though.
I never thought this would happen, but I think it was necessary.
I’ve learned to live for myself, and not do things because it’s what you would have wanted. And I think that’d make you just as happy as it made me.
It inescapable isn’t it? Moving on. It may take years, but eventually feelings and hopes and dreams and loves of the past fade into nothingness. There will still be times, but they are so few that it doesn’t even seem real anymore.
And I am happy for that.
I still love you, but I love myself now too. And the emptiness has closed itself.
Time and I have come to peace with each other.
I won’t say there aren’t any times where I ache anymore, but I can manage myself. I accept the darkness, but will choose to live in the light.
I’m sorry, but it’s time to begin living again. I’ll try to write, but I can’t make any promises.