I'd like to start off by clarifying something: I didn't love you- romantically.

But I did love you. I loved you so much, just like I love the daffodils that bloom in spring, the earnestness in the off-key vibrato of elderly ladies singing at church, and the innocence in little children playing with each other at recess. I loved you because I cared deeply about you- about your past, about the progress you had made, about the dreams you had for the future, and where you were currently in the swirl of mad emotions, physical and mental pain, and the desire to be something and do something better.

They say that if you truly love someone, you have to let them go. Maybe that's what I did. Maybe I cared so much about you that, despite the emotional pain of unfulfilled hopes and dreams it brought to me, I knew you needed the liberty to walk on your own, to stumble on your own, and to fall down on your own... Because maybe- finally, then- you'd be able to pick yourself back up instead of getting caught in my web of desperate hopefulness.

Maybe you needed- maybe you need- the space to truly discover yourself.

If you love someone, let them go. Let them go pursue their dreams. Let them go make mistakes. Let them reach rock bottom. Let them struggle to grasp onto any shred of hope that somehow pierces through their darkness and somehow climb out of their own personal pit of helplessness and despair.

It's not entirely your fault that you're hurting. You've made some poor decisions in the past, yes- but you've also been the victim of other people's pain. You deserve better. You deserve the space to discover yourself without the interruption of my selfish desires.

...And I love you so much that I'm letting you go.

So go on, get. Scram. I've been through my own Hell, and I know the pain of working through torturous emotions and debilitating habits. But only you can help yourself- and you need to.

I'm letting you go- so please, go.