Last night I lay naked in the darkness listening to
Godspeed You Black Emperor!'s terrible, terrible strings and with that awful momentum, I cried you out of my heart. I wept and I
sobbed until I couldn't breathe and gasped fishlike on the floor. I cried for all of the things you could have told me. I cried for everything that might have been. And then, it was over. I had cried you out of my heart.
I still love you, but I don't want to be with you anymore. I am not what you want and I am not what you need, but I like who I am and I wouldn't transform myself by some fantastic means into someone new just so I could be the one for you. You are wonderful, and I will always love you; but even should you change your mind about me, I won't be anyone's second choice, not even yours. And maybe I am not beautiful, but I am more than that. There are millions of beautiful faces, but there is only one me and there will only ever be one me.
I hope that you find the one. And maybe he won't be as kind as me, or as smart, or as compassionate or as creative; but he will be the one and you will know it. I hope he makes you happy in ways I could not. I hope he never makes you cry.
Perhaps one day you will look back and regret not giving me more of a chance. Perhaps you will remember my devotion and sigh. It is my hope that you do not. Everything I have done has been out of love, and even through tears I can find no regrets.