I sit in an armchair, listening to the piano play over the speaker. It’s soft in here, quiet. I look over at the armchair beside me, empty, yet warm. Warm, with one that had sat beside me. One who had been in my mind, and my heart. I look over and, in my head, we have an imaginary conversation.

I know, letting go is hard. Sometimes we have to do it because it’s what’s best for us. I didn’t want to let this out in my writing, but it seems to be pouring out of my chest in this very moment.

I would say how much you hurt me, and the echoes of what once was in my mind ring through me every day. I wish I could take it all back, this hurt I caused, but from it I’ve grown. I learned about the darkest sides of my soul. I learned how deep I can put myself in the hole of what I think is love.

Love doesn’t destroy you or make you feel small. It doesn’t discard you or make you feel inhuman. Love should never force you to lose yourself, your morals, your soul. Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I escaped. I ran out of the house that had been set ablaze by our selfishness. I jumped from the derailed train of our lies.

I had to choose between letting you go or letting me go. Anam Cara