Dear Bru,

Why am I doing this? Maybe it’s out of pity. Maybe it’s because I’m lonely. Maybe I actually do miss you. I hope I don’t mess things up any more than I already have. I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for how it ended, and the events that followed. I’m sorry I was selfish. I’m sorry I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m sorry I didn’t end it sooner. I only wish you the best, even if it may not seem this way. I don’t think I miss you, but I miss how I felt when we were together… at least in the early stages. We belonged to each other for two years. That’s a long time for our age, you know? And it ended so suddenly and cruelly. I’ll blame myself for that. It shouldn’t have happened over the phone, through screaming and tears. But it had been digging at me for so long: disdain for you. And for myself. You had shut down. And when you told me that you no longer cared…

I just want to say sorry for all the cruelty that we had to endure from ourselves and from each other. So I’m going to text you. And I’m going to see if you want to talk. And maybe for the first time in four months, we can have a conversation that doesn’t end in tears.

And just so you know, returning your Valentine’s day gift was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I had gotten you Schindler’s List, because of that inside joke we had about how I tend to buy gifts that are really inappropriate for the occasion. Ending it with you exactly five days before 14 February. That was harder than I ever thought it would be.

I hope you make it through what you’re going through. I’m sorry I can’t be there to help, but I don’t think I’d do any good if I tried.

I’m Sorry,



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