I recently unpacked my diaries and read about you. There were details I had switched around in my head, things I had forgotten that detract from the myth I’ve created based on our interactions. I had forgotten that, once upon a time, you were just a person to me.
I’m never ready to say goodbye, but I have accepted (if only rationally) that there is no longer any common thread between who you are and what you represented to me. I can’t find the words to properly communicate my embarrassment and grief. You were so important to me, or rather, the idea of you was so important to me, as a person you were very disappointing.
For the longest time, I have given you credit for inspiring my successes. My world turned upside down when I met you, and for the longest time, I thought you were the one who did the turning, that your very essence was the push that started me on the path I’d always hoped to be on. When I read those paragraphs about how you were selfish, how you were disinterested, I realized how wrong I’ve been. I was doing the turning. I was the one who was brave. I was the one who decided to risk everything for what I wanted. I was the one who pursued what I felt passionately about, and I am ultimately the one who will succeed. That isn’t to say you won’t succeed, it’s just that your success is irrelevant.
I feel ashamed at the thought of you reading this, but then again, you are not the man that I’m directing this towards. This is a letter to the myth. You two are separate entities now. One of you is an actual person who I have no connection to, the other is a phantom that I have decided to release.
With that, you are gone.