I hesitate to start this letter because I fear that no words will ever substantially express the feelings in my heart. I hesitate because I know that in writing this letter it means I have let you go. I hesitate because all of this has extracted such a price from me that, at times, I wonder if I will ever truly be free of it.
I loved you.
I loved you, doll.
I have had a full year now to contemplate your betrayal, a full year to process the hurt. I still miss you. I still think of you, often. I long for the intoxicating taste of your lips. I yearn to gaze into your soft, doe eyes. I pine to hear the sound of your inimitable voice. We had a chance at something special, the moment was there. I did my utmost to impress upon you the fierce urgency of the present. You failed to listen.
You set me on fire, Ophelia, and then you left me to burn.
I wonder sometimes if it was all a cruel game or if for a fleeting, beautiful window of time your heart truly belonged to me. I would’ve treasured it, you know? I would’ve protected and honored you. I was already yours. All those dreams we shared were ours to realize. You once told me that two broken people had the power to repair each other and indeed, together, you and I were strengthened.
October was not conceived in jest or born of lust.
Not to me.
That was a piece of my soul.
I will take that to my grave.
You disappointed me, Ophelia. As a friend, as a lover but more than anything else you disappointed me as a human being. You had an opportunity to live as yourself without pretense but instead you acted out of fear, you wrapped yourself in cowardice as if it were a warm blanket. You will never know how crushing it was to witness someone so good willfully choose to be something less.
It is my hope that you one day find the courage to become the person that you were born to be. It is my desire that you come to realize that your purpose lies somewhere between the stardust in your eyes and the song in your heart. This unrequited love has tormented me but I will not allow it to tarnish who I am. I have stories to write and adventures to chronicle, demons to slay and ghosts to lay to rest. I am worth so much more than the pain you left me with, Ophelia, and I choose to be whole.