Hi.
Though I doubt you’ll ever know I wrote this. And maybe that’s for the best.

I used to imagine telling you everything. Not beautifully, not with grace, not like in the movies. Just — how it really was. How it hurt. How I waited. How I curled up at night because your silence cut deeper than any fight.

I wanted to ask: why did you disappear? Why no goodbye, no closure, not even a scrap of honesty left behind? I wanted to scream. But instead — I stayed silent. Always “convenient.” With that smile that said, “I’m fine, it’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay.

And now I’m here. Writing to you, though you’ll never see it. Writing, because this isn’t about you anymore. It’s about me. About the fact that I deserve words. Respect. Truth. And love that doesn’t hide.

Thank you for teaching me — through your silence. Because now, I’m learning to speak. To myself. For myself. And never again will I stay quiet where it hurts.

Goodbye.