Let Me Go

After everything you have done to me, after every way you have hurt me, you give me a simple sorry as though that should be enough. Maybe you mean it. Maybe, in your own way, you really are sorry. But sorry does not undo anything, and it does not make me happy.

That is the part you never seem to understand.

If you ever truly loved me, if you ever genuinely wanted me to be happy, then why can you not accept that you are no longer the person who can make me happy?

Why does loving me have to mean keeping me?

Perhaps the most selfless thing you could ever do for me would be to lose me.

To look at the woman you say you love and recognise that staying with you is hurting her, then open your hands anyway. To accept the pain of watching her walk away because her peace matters more than your need to keep her. There would be no reward in it for you, no second chance waiting at the end, no promise that I would come back once I had healed. You would simply have to live with the loss.

That would be pure selflessness.

Maybe even an act of mercy.

And after everything else, that was the one act of love you were never able to give me.

You could tell me you loved me.

You could tell me you were sorry.

You could beg me to stay.

But you could not love me enough to let me go.