intensely personal

Last year, I took C out to the store and prepared for my sister's birthday tomorrow.

Last year, I came home around 7 PM and was greeted by my father and sister looking concerned, serious.

One of them told me, I think it was my sister, that I had received a letter from B.

I opened it. I think I already knew what it said; why else would I have had such a profound sense of dread as I opened your letter?

Your letter declared that our relationship wasn't healthy. This, I can grant.

You went on to say, however, that it never was healthy.

This I cannot and do not believe.

When I was sick, we were sick. Likewise, when you were sick, we were sick.

The letter broke up with me.

6.5 years and you broke up with me via a letter.

I remember arguing with my sister. She tried to comfort me in her own awkward way, and I warned her, "If you keep talking along these lines, I'm going to blow up at you."

She kept talking about how much she never liked you. And I blew up at her.

My heart was broken. Your illness overpowered, overwhelmed you. It claimed not only you, but us and our family.

That was a year ago today.

I cried. I couldn't sleep, and when I did, I dreamt horrible things had happened to you.

But time passes. It always does. I gave up on you. I gave up on us. I tried to move on with my life, not for me, but for C. (And what other option do/did I have?)

I accepted I would be single forever. Never again to be in a relationship. And when I least expected it, A came into my life and I came into his life. Together, the three of us make more a family B, then you and I and C ever would. It hurts to say that, because its an acknowledgment that maybe you never wanted a family. Maybe your desire to have a family was a whim of your illness. I don't know, and I'm not spending time thinking about it.

Tonight, I will be home with my family. My real family--A and C. I will be grateful that you set me free, B. I am already filled with love and gratitude for A and C.

Though...for whatever it's worth...I love you as a friend. No longer philos eros, but instead, philos agape. I wish you the best. I wish you good health.

Maybe it's better that you have no idea what you're missing out on...that you're too sick. Because honestly, I think that if you did know the amazing little girl whose life you've opted to not be a part of, it would kill you. If you could see how strong I am, how much I've grown, it would kill you to see what you're missing. I don't mean that to sound vain; I still don't think I'm much at all.

But I do know that in giving us up, you gave up so much more...

Peace.