WISHES

Letters I Never Sent – Episode Two

In the quiet corners of my heart lives a story - one of redemption and unexpected love. It begins with fragments, with a vow whispered in the shadow of pain, a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.

Years ago, I stood in the wreckage of heartbreak’s grip, caught in a cycle that slowly shaped me into someone I no longer recognized. Each failed attempt left me colder, more guarded. I built walls, convinced they were protection, but deep down I knew I was only hiding.

Then came 2018 - a year that changed everything. I broke someone’s heart badly, and that pain I caused hit me harder than any I had endured before. It broke something inside me too – or maybe it woke something up. Either way, it was enough.

That year, I chose to walk away from love’s battlefield. Not in defeat, but in search of something better. A version of myself that could love with honesty, with gentleness.

I stepped back to wait, to heal. Until I was ready to try again - not just to love, but to love well.

In those quiet years, I turned inward - stripping away the noise and distractions, listening closely to the parts of myself I’d long ignored. I poured my energy into growth, not romance. It was a slow, sometimes painful process of piecing together the fragments of my heart. I learned to be still with myself, to face the loneliness without fear, and to build a foundation stronger than before. I nearly forgot what it meant to love at all.

Then, out of nowhere, she appeared - a flicker of hope in the lingering shadows. We crossed paths in the most unassuming way: a Twitter DM. Her first message? Just a laughing emoji. But it sparked a conversation that would change everything.

There was something about her - laughter that danced like sunlight, eyes that held galaxies (literally, they’re that big😊😊), and a presence that steadied me. She became my anchor in a sea of uncertainty. And while yes, her beauty was striking - especially that forehead😂, a literal airport that never failed to make me smile - it was her resilience, her boldness, her unshakeable self - belief that truly drew me in. She was a balm to my tired soul, soothing wounds I thought I’d buried for good.

Our connection deepened quickly, as if our souls had known each other in a different lifetime. We peeled back our layers, sharing fears and scars, only to find we were often battling the same demons (even though she still denied it). In her, I found solace - a safe space where I could simply be.

Vulnerability was met with tenderness, and my flaws weren’t faults but shared fragments of a story we were still writing. We leaned into the present, savoring the little joys that quietly stitched us closer together. Every conversation, every laugh, felt like a rebirth - a rising from the ruins, a breath of air I didn’t know I’d been holding. She didn’t see me as who I had been, but as who I was becoming. And her quiet acceptance gave me the courage to keep becoming.

She taught me how to live lighter - without the weight of old regrets or looming what - ifs. Her way of embracing life, of choosing joy and good vibes in every moment, slowly rewired how I saw the world.

With her, I learned that love doesn’t always come wrapped in grand gestures. Sometimes, it’s in the softest things - the quiet check - ins, the shared silences, the way you just get each other without saying much at all. Somehow, she made the ordinary feel magical. Our texts, calls, even our low moments - they gave me those gentle butterflies. The beautiful kind.

No, we were not perfect. But we were real. And that was more than enough. We had learned how to talk, really talk - about our fears, our dreams, where we had been and where we hoped to go. Beneath the teasing, there was a deep respect for each other’s passions and perspectives.

What made us special was how we faced the same storms and still chose to walk together. We both carried scars. We both doubted, faltered, ached. But instead of letting that tear us apart, we had found strength in the way we understood each other. In that shared vulnerability, we built something quite unbreakable, or so I thought.

But living in the moment? that’s something she taught me to embrace. She’d gently remind me not to obsess over the future, but to savor each day as it came. It was a lesson I didn’t know I needed. I’d spent so much of my life either haunted by the past or anxious about what might go wrong. But with her, I learned to pause. To breathe. To find joy in the now and let the what - ifs fade into the background.

She changed me in ways I never imagined possible. She showed me forgiveness isn’t weakness, that speaking up can be healing, and that unconditional love is real. Every single day with her was a quiet reminder that I was capable - of loving, and being loved in return. She became my partner, my safe space, my best friend.

The journey with her was nothing short of transformative. When I looked back at who I used to be before we crossed paths, I barely recognized him. Her love lit the way through parts of myself I’d been too afraid to face. And because of that, I’ve tried - truly tried - to become the man she believed I could be. To show up with gratitude. To hold tight to what we built.

But anyway… fuck that. I messed it all up.

So, hey buddy. It’s been a while.How are you?

I hope you’re okay.

I’m… not great, honestly. A little bruised - not just physically, but everywhere that matters. But that’s beside the point.

I’m here to say sorry. Again. For everything.

For how I treated you.For how it ended.And contrary to your brave words - it’s not fine. It never was.

Yes, I was immature.

And yes, as always, I blamed it on the demons - the ones you loathed, the ones you begged me to fight. Maybe you were right to hate them.

They told me I wasn’t the only one - not because you ever gave me a reason to doubt, but because they’d been whispering for so long that I deserved less. That I wasn’t good enough for anyone or anything. And eventually, I listened.

I tried to fight those voices off.Tried to drown them with your pretty voice, your contagious laughter.For a while, it worked - until we stopped talking so much.Until your laughter became just an echo in my empty ears.

I’m not blaming you. I know I started it - going quiet on the hard days, even when we’d promised each other honesty.Communication was foreign to me. I’d always fought my battles alone. And when it all felt too much, I reached for my pen - it was the only thing that never judged me.

Then you appeared.All perfect and loving.Showing me it was okay to let go.That my scars were beautiful.That sometimes, healing starts with a simple “hi.”

For a while, that was enough. I was really trying - like a bird taking its first flight, feeling the thrill and the fear all at once. But then the demons came crashing back. Yes, I was flying... but what if I couldn’t land safely? What if I wasn’t meant to fly at all? I promise you, I tried. But it became too much. Too much for me to face. So, my stupid self chose to zone you out instead.

Hun, I fought for us - you might not believe it, and that’s alright. But during that fragile month, when we were on and off, I was holding on. Maybe this curse of mine - the two - month mark - is real. Still, I fought beyond it.

I fought until the truth hit me hard, I was the one who slowly pushed you away. I kept nudging open a door, and you quietly stepped through, slipping out of reach. My silence turned into your silence. You gave up, and by the time I finally called out, you were already gone. Just a silhouette fading into the sunset - untouchable, resolute. I called, but you never looked back. Your mind was made.

That morning, when I told you we needed some space and you simply said “okay,” it shattered me. It confirmed my deepest fears - that I am no better than that boy in his faded shirt and ironed grey trousers, sitting stiff at the worn - out desk at the front of the class in S.4.L. The boy who couldn’t escape the tears that fell silently late at night - first on his desk, then on his pillow.

I may have grown a beard, but surely, it is not enough to hide the scars he carries. That boy is still here - unhealed, unguarded, still wrestling with the same ache. I haven’t outgrown him, and maybe I never will.

Like him, I don’t yet know how to love fully, to love without fear or reservation. I couldn’t love you the way you deserved - wild, free, and without apology.

I’ve always been a mess - but you made me your mess.

Like a worn - out childhood toy left sitting on your desk.

Once cherished, now faded.

Just a sack of memories, fragile and forgotten.

I understand now.

You had to let me go.

You outgrew the boy I am - the boy I was.

The one still hiding beneath the surface.

You outgrew the memories, too.

You had to set me down like a piece of your past - once precious, but too delicate to carry forward.

You had to ditch that toy.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

So, no - I won’t sit here and wish for do - overs or second chances. What we had was real, flawed, beautiful. A small miracle wrapped in late - night calls, stupid jokes, and soft football banters. And like most miracles, it wasn’t meant to last forever. Just long enough to teach me something I couldn’t have learned any other way.

You were the chapter I didn’t see coming, the softness I didn’t know I needed, and the mirror that forced me to face myself. I messed up - again - but this time it wasn’t just a name added to my list of regrets. It was a soul I hurt, a hand I should’ve held tighter, a story I should’ve written better.

Maybe one day I’ll be better.

Maybe someday I’ll finally stop sabotaging the good things.

Maybe I’ll finally stay when it gets hard, speak when it matters, and love without fear of falling apart.

But until then, if you ever read this, if these words ever find you - I hope you smile.

I hope you remember the good, not the silence.

The butterflies, not the bruises.

I hope you remember how I made you laugh, big - head😂.

Because even in my worst, you were the best part of me.And if nothing else, know this:

I loved you.

In the only way I knew how.

Messy, flawed, but real.

Always real.

I remain, yours truly,     

                                                            ~ The Imperfect Writer.