To the One… Who Was Always Light

My love,

Some mistakes echo louder than forgiveness can reach.

When we found our way back to each other, the first thing I did was look into the eyes of your people — your mother, your father, your stepfather, your brother, your closest friend.

I told them what they already knew: that I had broken something precious.

That I had hurt you.

That I didn’t understand the weight of my own actions.

But the real torment is this:

When you begin to truly dislike yourself, you start expecting the world to do the same.

You push away the ones who could love you —

Not because you don’t love them,

But because you’re convinced you don’t deserve to be loved.

I never meant to hurt you.

When I pushed you away, it wasn’t because my love had ended —

It was because I loved you so deeply that I couldn’t see myself as worthy of it.

I thought you’d move on quickly.

I imagined your world would keep spinning — while mine drowned in silence.

I had no idea you were sitting on the other end of the phone,

Hoping for just one message from me,

Staring at our photos through tear-filled eyes,

At the moments we had —

And the future that might’ve been ours.

It never even crossed my mind that someone could “miss” me.

“Missing” is such a beautiful word — like a spell,

And I believed people like me didn’t get spells.

We aren’t remembered —

We’re just left behind to be forgotten.

But you —

You were light.

You found beauty in every broken scene.

You picked up trash from street corners with quiet dignity.

You saw art in the faded murals on crumbling walls.

You made goodness feel easy.

And me?

I was a shadow tangled in my own darkness,

Pulling every bit of light back into the void.

Still... somehow, we made a "twilight."

Maybe we were neither day nor night —

But that sacred in-between moment

When the sun and moon kiss,

And the universe forgets to breathe.

Last year, I bought a house.

Not because I was ready —

But because the world said it was time.

It was meant to be the place where we would live together.

Our kitchen, our late-night teas,

Our quiet Sundays wrapped in rain.

And yes — that magical night did arrive when I stepped inside.

But then the walls returned.

Not of brick — but of memory.

And I didn’t tear them down in time.

I’m not writing this letter to ask for another chance.

I’m writing it because silence has weight too —

And mine has become too heavy to carry.

So listen —

You were the first person who made me feel

That maybe I, too, could live in the light.

And even though I drifted back into the dark,

I never forgot that light.

You deserved someone better.

And I… am still trying to become that better version of myself.

If you ever think of me,

Think of me in that twilight hour —

Where light and dark breathe together.

Because that’s what we were.

And it was… real.

Always,

Me