An Open Letter

I’m in San Jose now, and I spent three hours in the rental lot where I first met her mom. I wasn’t that exact rental lot After dropping off the car from our road trip. I honestly just wanna break down crying. Sometimes I really fucking miss her. And I remember how I felt calling her when I was in San Jose on my business trip for the first time. And I just went and I deleted the Instagram highlight of us, and I couldn’t help but to look through all of them one last time. And my God, I loved her so fucking much. And I’m almost forcing myself to use past tense, because I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t. And it just hurts so much because all of these places remind me of her. And she was never perfect, and she never claimed that she was. But I had really just hoped that things would work out. And it sucks so much because I know that she loved me. And the issue was that love alone was not enough to make up for the issues. But the times when she would give me that love, it would feel so incredibly sweet and warm and I would feel so fucking safe. I would feel like for the first time in my life I had someone I could just collapse onto. And even if in those moments she didn’t handle things great still, I felt safe with her and I felt like she cared. And sometimes I would be able to have space for me, and I could just cry and get a hug from her. And it hurts me so much that the nostalgia still haunts me. And it sucks because in the relationship that was not the default, and that was not even a common occurrence. And I think that almost made it even more valuable. And I’ve done a lot of research and reading and seen that it was not a healthy dynamic, and I was constantly trapped in the cycle of her getting aggressive or doing something shitty to me, and then some sweet apology without any follow up, followed by a few days of kindness and love. And then another bomb drop. And I remember how unstable I felt, because I never knew how she would react a day, and it was something that affected my work and my other relationships.

So why does it hurt me so much to see the places haunted by nostalgia of good memories. Even if sometimes looking at her would hurt me, why do I have those memories so fondly held close to my heart. I’m glad that voice to text doesn’t pick up my sobs. I guess I honestly don’t know what else to do but to cry myself to sleep, since it is late and I have to wake up early for work tomorrow. I’m doing my best to let the grief pass through me, and not shut it out. But I really do miss her.