I took you for granted, and I’m sorry. I hope you realize that I always loved you, even when I complained that you just wouldn’t cooperate. I know I was hard on you. I should have been more understanding. Everyone has bad days now and then. The good days far outweighed the bad in your case. I should have appreciated that more than I did, rather than focusing on those few times when I just couldn’t deal with you. I guess I was frustrated because I cared for you and nurtured you the best I could, but sometimes you just did whatever you wanted, refusing to meet me even halfway. Still, I had it so good with you, and it took the threat of your leaving for me to realize that. By then it was too late. I savored our last days together, sadly knowing there was nothing I could do to make you stay.
You can’t possibly know how much I miss you—not just for your beauty but for your warmth, your soft embrace, the way you protected me, both physically and emotionally. Anything else is a poor substitute. I’ve managed to go on without you, but truly, I’m not myself. My very identity was intertwined with you, and although I’ve tried various ways to cover it up, it’s painfully obvious that there’s something missing in my life.
I hate that you had to leave, but I understand why. It was a toxic situation, and you had to get out of it. Things won’t be like this forever, though. I know you need time, but I have faith you’ll return. I’m not going to make empty promises and say that when you do come back, everything will be perfect. What I can tell you, though, is that when I see you again, I will rejoice. I will cherish you—every last strand of you, even the grey ones.