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Breakup Anniversary

It’s like we’re a world apart now. To be precise, we are seven years, two partners, and 3 and half babies apart. I think in reality it’s only some 80-odd miles. Not even two hours. But you might as well be in another universe.

Because just like stars colliding, we blew up. Our ending was a disaster.

But hey, we both survived it. I only wish we could have found a way to keep that door of communication wedged open ever so slightly. I don’t need a full view – I know how that would hurt us both – but I hate that I don’t even have the option of wishing you well. We’re at a point of no contact, and it still kind of hurts my feelings even after all this time.

In hindsight, I can see my shortcomings so clearly. I can tell where I placed undue blame on you for the ache that I felt. I thought I understood things that I simply couldn’t have comprehended at the time. Everything felt so critical in the moment. I’m sorry for all of it.

But we were kids, and it was a summer. Too far, too fast, too hard. We crashed and burned and it wasn’t truly anybody’s fault.

So yeah, I wish I could reach out, apologize, wish you well. I can only imagine that you’re doing all kinds of wonderful things. I hope your parents are well, and that your sister conquers motherhood with the same grace she does everything else. I hope your puppy grew into a dog that would make sweet Annie proud. I hope you’re still eating peanut butter by the spoonful, and that I might still cross your mind when you stare up at the summer nighttime sky.

I would love to catch up some day. Just a quick, casual encounter to break the ice. Nothing more than that. I just don’t know how to extend an invitation when this radio silence has been so unwelcoming for seven entire years.

October 2nd. The weight of the day almost escaped me, but it’s a little bit heavy tonight.

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