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I wanted to write about you in happier circumstances. Now I can't believe I'm actually writing this— a message that was supposed to be for a happier ending— now transformed into a farewell of sorts.

Do you remember the first time that I shared my food with you when we were in Poland? Neither of us knew that we'd be sharing our meals for the rest of our lives. (Or so we were supposed to.)

The people around me always said that I had incredible luck because I always managed to get the guys I liked. You were no exception to that even though I initially thought of you as an older brother I never had.

When I first encountered you in our World Youth Day formation in 2015, I'm sure that we've met before and we just didn't know. I always believed the only reason why you hung around me was that you thought of me as a cute little sister you would look after. I was right about that, at least. Remember when I told you how I didn't "belong" anywhere in our group, that I was an "outsider" for almost everyone and that I had a hard time fitting in? You were part of the reason why I realized that I was never really alone in my youth journey.

To think that I had so many people looking out for me back then. I couldn't be any more blessed than that.

I met you at a really complicated time in my life. I was trying to balance my studies, my own ministry journey and a home life that wavered from clear to bleak as days passed by. Things were changing so rapidly back then and I was under the impression that you would get tired of talking to me sooner or later, but you never did.

We never had the best start to our relationship, but you made up for it by being there whenever I felt like my shoulders would give in from the weight of the world and my own guilt which you sought to rid me of. You were the lighthouse illuminating my way, the moral compass in my chest pocket guiding me back home, the light at the end of the winding tunnel that was supposed to say I made it out.

Were.

Somewhere in the middle of this unsettling tug of war we had no idea we were playing, the rope frayed and snapped, and I'm here trying to recover from the recoil of how far I was flung back.

The way you ended everything was cruel, and I can't ever fathom how quickly you packed away everything we've been through and leave without a second thought. I wanted us to part ways in a much kinder manner, but we all know there's no easy way to break someone's heart. And you did it to me in the most awful way— by making me suffer in silence.

Like I didn't suffer from it enough in this relationship.

I wanted you to talk to me. I wanted you to communicate with me. I wanted to understand you— I really did— and maybe it was my fault for trying so hard to figure you out that that I forced my way into everything, all without thinking twice because I was ready to be with you in the long run. I should have known that there would be more closed doors waiting for me the more I tried to open every single one I could get my hands on. Didn't you say it yourself? That you weren't dating for fun and games anymore— That you wanted what we had to be your first and last. I was just as ready.

Perhaps that's where I failed. I prided myself in being such a good communicator that I failed to read the signs you were giving me. That there were certain things you could never open up to me about and I was only forcing the words out of you— painfully, give or take. I begged for explanations every single time a war was waged, but I heard none. It was sad how you had no words for me even as we stood on the brink of goodbye. I never got the answers I pleaded you to give me and you left me with even more questions I'll never get a response to.

The immature ones, like— If the thought of me staying up late to wait for you doesn't make you stir to hurry home to me, then did you really love me? If the thought of letting me go to sleep upset didn't make you shiver, then did you really love me?

And the serious ones like, was it something I said? Was I too impatient? Oh, man, I was willing to change. I was willing to give you your space. Did you get tired of it? The Godless misdirection and the circles I've been running myself in? Did you realise one morning that, damn, I can't live with her! She will break me! Was it the sound of my voice? Or the way I had to force you to talk about us when we had nothing else to? Was I flying way too high with the way I planned for everything in what was supposed to be our future? Was I even part of your future? Maybe I was never the place you wanted to come home to, because if you really wanted to, you would have stayed. What about me? What the hell, man? What about us?

Wait. Let me breathe.

I admit that I was selfish and toxic and I was willing to change that. (Damn, to think that I was willing to change so much for you. Just look at how small I made myself.) I wanted you to be patient with me, at least until I struck the right balance because you had always been the more grounded one between the two of us. My head hasn't been in a good place and I was sorry for whatever it was I said (or didn't say) that made you snap and think, oh, I can't live with this mess in the future. (Did we even have one in your mind? Big doubt.)

Maybe it was my fault for dreaming too much. For placing so much hope in what we could have been in the future. I wanted so much to be part of your life and your world that I carved my own space into it when it should have been you who did that for me. Did I scare you away with what I'm capable of doing?

Ah. Big sigh.

There's no sense in asking all of these anymore and I don't want to force any more answers out of you. You were right about one thing— it was tiring, and I'd rather set you free than trap you and myself in such an unhappy relationship. It wasn't always unhappy, though. I still have so much to be thankful for and I don't regret one bit of it at all.

I thank you for being kind. For never raising your voice at me. For never hitting me. But those things are already a given. You were a man of God and you would never do that to anyone else as well.

I thank you for being patient with me. For answering all of my stupid questions about nearly everything under the sun except for things about our relationship. For the little presents. For reminding me to take care of myself. For not tolerating my demons. For telling me to pray about everything. For praying with me and praying for me.

You must have grown tired of all of this at one point and I completely understand that. Love shouldn't be a chore. It should be a pleasure to do all of those. If you did all of those out of obligation and fear of sparking an argument between us, then I get why you're tired.

Wipe your tears now.

I realised how I was eventually trapping myself and tying myself down to a one-sided conversation I may never get any right answers to. I was settling for so much less than what I deserve and that's not right. Yes, you read it right. I was settling for something I didn't deserve— just as much as you don't deserve any of this heartache.

Was it that easy to give us up?

Stop asking questions, Tony. There are no answers.

I was willing to give us a fighting chance. I had wanted to desperately to save this sinking ship without even thinking of how deep I would drown so as long the wreckage would make it back to the shore. We could rebuild it, after all. We could start again. We could—

We could have been one of the greatest loves. And for a brief period in time, in my eyes and the eyes of everyone else who believed in our love, I knew that we were.

I apologise for trapping you in what felt may have felt like a vice grip around your neck. I apologise for choking and forcing out the answers I so desperately wanted to hear when all I asked for was the assurance that you were there. I apologise for nothing else.

I will never apologise for setting you free. I will never apologise for touching your life. I will never apologise for making a home out of you— for loving your family and your friends and for loving you for who you were.

I will never apologise for not wanting to be friends afterwards. I will never apologise for never saying anything afterwards. I will not apologise for ignoring you the next time we meet at a diocesan event.

I want you to remember that it was you who chose this ending.

I will always wish you well and I still believe you deserve all the good things in this world and beyond, but let me tell you as well that I am one good thing you didn't deserve.

You can keep our friends because— who am I kidding?— They have always been yours. I'm used to being the one left without anyone hearing my side of the story. This part isn't new to me at all. But you don't have to worry so much. My mind is in a pretty good place right now.

This will be the last time I write about you. I hope your next love treats you the way you want to be treated. I hope you remain kind to her. I hope, my goodness, that you talk to her when something needs to be talked about. For the love of everything that is good, don't make her suffer in silence again.

I want to apologise to myself for settling with what we had when I deserved so much more than silence and forced affection. Forced answers. The kind you would give just to pacify any argument that may erupt between us. I pray that when I'm finally ready to love again, I will get the love and honesty I deserve. Candidness. A relationship where I don't have to pretend to be such a goody-two-shoes. The kind where I don't have to force any more answers out because they will give me the assurance I need— the assurance I deserve. And I will love the next one without clinging onto them for my dear life. For the meantime, I will love the one in need of it most: myself.

Love, Tony