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To you, who stopped loving me overnight.
To you, with whom I shared the bed for a few nights without touching your arm.
To you, who didn’t kiss me while we made love.
To you, who stopped calling me beautiful.
To you, who stopped being my everything.
I thank you for your departure and the cowardice you showed by walking out my of life without fighting for “us”. You left me at a time I thought I needed you most but it was in my own solitude that I discovered I had the strength to move forward on my own.
It was in solitude that I understood that my affections should not be directed to you, but to myself, the only person who will always be with me unconditionally. It was in solitude that I learned that I should make love to myself, because there is no better love than my own.
It was in solitude that I faced my greatest challenges—all to keep my mind busy to avoid thinking of you. It was in solitude that I conquered my fear of being alone and accepted compliments from strangers. It was in solitude that I began to enjoy being single. And it was in solitude that I realized that the role of victim no longer corresponded me and instead I had become my own hero.
To you, whose absence has given color and joy to my life.
To you, who has left space in my bed to be occupied by another.
To you, who left me on the road to find a reciprocated love.
To you, who ceased to be my superman and became a simple man.
To you, who gave me my freedom.
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Author: Isabella Arevalo
Editor: Emma Ruffin
Photo: Erin Stoodley/Flickr
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