J, 
Bet you won’t like being called my ex but I don’t know where to put this. I think I biked past you on Saturday April 2 on 10th & Arbutus. I thought it might be you then convinced myself in the second that we passed each other that it wasn’t you. Woke up this morning four days later knowing it was you. Your Vessi’s. The way you were tugging your jacket down. If I had known – I would have waved – I would have smiled. I wouldn’t have stopped – we’re not ready for that.

You didn’t smile or stop or anything either so, maybe it wasn’t you. But it was. I wonder if my lack of recognition  made you think I hate you or that I ignored you on purpose. We never got to say it to each other, why we’re not speaking. You asked for space and I said okay that makes sense because I get it, I get wanting freedom from our claustrophobic relationship, and then I never asked because it was easier, and it remains easier, even this stupid letter is easier than asking you.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I loved you romantically, and this must have felt unfair to you, like I loved a projection instead of the real you, the real person in front of me. I’m sorry it took me time to realize what kind of love I wanted to give you. Thank you for taking space and for giving me space. It was kind. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you – I hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. I thought if I ran into you ever, that I would be kind to you from a distance. That I would be *something* to you. That my body would know you immediately. I just biked by. I just stayed with my music. I just continued thinking about you instead of looking out into the world to see you. Right in front me. I missed you. Goodbye to my best friend, my best friend, my best friend.