The Art of Letting Go.
PROMPT: After you know Harry is cheating on you, all you leave behind is a tear stained letter.
There’s no way that I deem appropriate to start this letter.
How about: “Hi, how are you doing love?“
But that sounds so funny to me, we do live together after all. Or at least used to. But I still wouldn’t know how you’re doing anymore, anyway.
I’ve always thought you and I were happy with what we had, I’m sorry I didn’t realise you weren’t happy earlier, I would’ve left before it got down to this. And I want you to know that it tears me to shreds, that I have to write everything that’s related to us– in past tense.
And I don’t want you to feel bad or guilty– that is if you still care enough about me to feel like that.
Now I feel really stupid and I don’t know why I’m still writing this, I should’ve just left, I just know I can’t talk to you face to face anymore.
I’m glad you’re happy even if the cause is someone who’s not me, I know you’ve been stressed lately, you had a lot on your mind and I wasn’t there for you as much as I’d wanted to. I just wish you hadn’t lied to me though, and I wish I didn’t find comfort in your words the way I did.
You can say I’m mad at my self, more than I’ll ever be at you, because, I knew what’s going on– not in its entirety, but that gut feeling was there, I was a coward for not confronting my self and ending this misery for the both of us.
But can I really blame my self? I loved you too much for it to be easy– letting you go, that is.
But anyway, this is getting long and I have to go. I’m sorry for everything.
A heart wrenching sob can be heard amidst the quietness in Harry’s flat. And he knows, he has no right to be heartbroken.
But he is.
He remembers why he fell in love with her. The way she smiled at him– like there was no one else important in the world but him, how she always knew how to make things better, how to keep him sane and insane for her. And the way she was always so considerate of his feelings– even now for fucks sake! When he ripped her heart and stomped on it till it turned paper thin.
But what he doesn’t remember is when he forgot all of this. Was it the seductive looks he got amidst the chaos of his hectic life? Was it the thrill of knowing that this is something he’s not supposed to be doing? Was it worth it? He doesn’t think so, and he had been beating himself over being so aware of what he did, and that he fucking did it, because you didn’t deserve this. You really didn’t. So he clutches the paper that has such fragile feelings written on it, and vows to never hurt you anymore, that’d he’d let you go because who was he to ask you to stay?
It’s true, what they say.
“You don’t know what you have until it’s gone”
Hope you enjoyed this! Have a nice day xx