To the One Who Walked Away,

There are moments when words feel both insufficient and overwhelming—this is one of those moments. Our story, which I believed was built on trust and genuine connection, crumbled so quickly that the echo of its collapse still rings in my ears.

I want you to understand the depth of the hurt you’ve caused. This isn’t about blame, but about the raw, unfiltered pain of feeling discarded. When you chose to end our relationship abruptly, driven by what seemed like momentary impulses and unpredictable emotions, you didn’t just break my heart—you shattered my trust in the vulnerability of human connection.

Love isn’t a switch to be flipped on and off with mood swings. It’s a delicate landscape of emotions, shared experiences, and mutual understanding. What we had deserved more respect, more consideration. I invested my genuine care, my hopes, and my emotional energy into our relationship, believing we were building something meaningful.

Your lack of transparency cut deeper than the actual separation. The sudden shift, the unexplained reasoning, the way you could seemingly detach so easily—these are the wounds that continue to smart long after the initial break.

Perhaps what hurts most is how carelessly our intimate moments were shared. Giving out my address felt like a violation of the trust we once shared. It wasn’t just an address you gave away—it was a piece of my personal safety, my sense of security. Was this a step too far? A casual disregard for the boundaries that should have protected our connection? In that moment, I realized how little you truly understood the weight of trust.

To anyone reading this who has experienced similar pain: Your feelings are valid. The confusion, the hurt, the sense of being blindsided—these are real emotions that deserve acknowledgment. Healing isn’t linear. Some days will feel impossible, and others will bring glimpses of hope and self-rediscovery.

I am learning that my worth isn’t determined by someone else’s inability to recognize my value. My vulnerability is not a weakness, but a strength. The capacity to love deeply, to care genuinely, is a beautiful trait that I will not let this experience diminish.

In the stillness of my most vulnerable moments, I find myself oscillating between anger and a quiet, aching hope. I miss the version of you I thought I knew—the moments we shared, the laughter that seemed effortless, the connection that felt like home. There’s a part of me that still hopes—irrationally, perhaps—that we could find our way back to each other.

But I know love isn’t about begging or holding onto something broken. My heart doesn’t always listen to reason. Some nights, I replay our memories like a film, wondering where the script changed, where we lost our way.

To the one who hurt me: I hope you find the emotional stability to understand the impact of impulsive actions. I hope you learn to communicate, to be transparent, and to respect the feelings of those who care about you.

And to myself: I choose healing. I choose growth. I choose to believe that this pain is temporary, and that my heart remains open to genuine, healthy love.

Come back if you can truly see me, truly hear me, truly understand the depth of what we could be when we’re honest with each other. Come back if you’re ready to be transparent, to work through the complexity of emotions, to build something real.

But if you can’t—if this is truly the end—then help me understand. Help me find closure. Help me believe that this pain isn’t forever.

With hope, heartache, and healing,

Tabitha