While you may never see this and while you may not even care all these years later, I am sorry, but I had to concentrate on my happiness for the first time in my life. I needed to worry about why I wasn't happy when you seemed like you were having the time of your life, and for that, I am truly sorry.

We started off wonderful. Our mutual friends smashed us together, and it was one of the most blissful weekends I had ever had. Things were fantastic, but then we had to go home.

While I know I had firmly believed that the long distance from here to Australia wasn't going to bother me, it did. It bothered me more than I ever let you know. I longed to be held when I had bad days, but the best you could give me was a reassuring Skype call. It wasn't the same as a hug. It never would be, and it will never be either. You tried to make it up to me in your own special way. You would send the most meaningful gifts. Hoodies, stuffed animals, anything to make me feel like you were there, but it still didn't mean you were. I don't know how you did it on your end. I have no idea how you kept it together.

There came a point around our one year anniversary that I realized that something was extremely different than when we had first started being dedicated to each other. I didn't feel the same, but I had no idea why. I wracked my brain for an answer. I asked you if we were okay constantly, but your reassurance never reassured me. I had no idea what was wrong.

I was like this for months. I faked being happy. I faked being okay so that you wouldn't be upset, but I hated myself for it. I wasn't being honest with you. I still regret not telling you right away that something wasn't okay even though I had no idea what it was, but at the same time, I couldn't.

Your smiling face hurt to see. Your constant showering of gifts became annoying. I didn't deserve them. I don't think I ever did to be honest. I will still look at something you bought me and think to myself that I didn't deserve the item even though I still use a lot of them 3-4 years later. Even if they were something I needed, like my computer for school, new pants because I had holes I couldn't fix, I still feel small tugs in my heart, but there's nothing I can do about it now.

To try to fight these feelings, I have redecorated my room twice. I have moved out of my parents house and then back in when the reasons I moved fell through. I have tried giving away or donating the things you had given me, but there are still some I can't. I have tried everything under the sun to make myself feel better about breaking your heart, but I don't think I will ever forgive myself. I broke your heart, smashed it even, because I wasn't happy by no actual fault of your own. It took talking to someone you hated that I was friends with to figure out that I had to worry about my own happiness for the first time in my life.

The night I called you to do the deed the first time, I could tell that you knew I didn't have happy news. I could tell that you wanted to hang up the second I started talking about what was going on, but you didn't. You let me continue on and on until I stopped to cry, and even then, you told me it was okay. You told me you understood. I could tell you were lying, but because you still said it, I felt even worse.

I wanted you to be upset and angry at me so I could have a reason to not feel horrible about what I had to do for my own happiness. I wanted you to scream at me, call me names. I wanted you to give me a reason to feel better about myself, but you didn't. In fact, you didn't really do anything. You seemed to just take it.

Then, you came to visit for Christmas so we could try to patch things up. I knew it was a mistake the second you stepped out of the car. I knew when I saw your face that it was going to be a terrible emotional drain, but I couldn't send you home. I couldn't not give us a fair chance. I couldn't do that to you, but I still shouldn't have done that to me.

That month you were at my house in the beginnings of winter held the most bittersweet moments of my 24 years of living.

You had never been in the snow before, and to be able to give you that first experience brought my heart such joy that I cried seeing you so happy to be cold and wet. The love my dog was giving you every chance he got made me ecstatic when you would get down on the floor to play with him. The fact that you were still bright and smiling even though you had to have known that the visit wasn't helping killed me. Knowing you were more than likely going to block me out of your life after you went home killed me inside, but I still wanted to see you happy.

I'm glad that you didn't want to talk before you left. I'm glad you waited until you got home to hear the words we both knew were coming, but I am still sorry that I had to smash your heart a second time. I still wasn't happy regarding the relationship. I wasn't in love with you anymore. I still cared deeply, and I still wanted to see you happy. However, I knew that I wasn't the one you were meant to be with anymore. It takes two people loving each other to make a relationship work, and we didn't have that. We weren't going to ever have that. You can't force love.

To this day, I still smile when I come across things that I know you would have loved. I still sometimes see pictures of your Christmas visit, and I smile thinking about how happy you were to discover snow. I still remember your birthday. I still remember our anniversary. I still remember that you hate broccoli for the dumbest reasons, and I don't think I'll ever forget any of it.

I'm sorry that I had to take my own life and happiness into my own hands. I'm sorry that I didn't have reasons that you actually caused to make me feel that way, and I'm so incredibly sorry that you were so heart broken that, even years later now, you still don't answer me when I email you Happy Birthday.

Wherever you are, I still wish you the best. I still want you to find happiness. I still want you do have all think things I couldn't give you, and I am still sorry. I always will be.