Dear Ex, sometimes I wonder if what we had was ever really love, or if we were both just desperate to feel something that made us forget how lonely we were inside. I used to mistake the chaos between us for passion, convincing myself that if something could hurt that much it had to mean it was real. The truth is, I was addicted to the highs and lows, the way you could make me feel like the center of your world one day and a stranger the next. It took me a long time to realize that love isn’t supposed to feel like walking on broken glass. Love is steady, it is safe, and it doesn’t leave you questioning your worth every night before you fall asleep. I do not hate you, but I do not miss you either. What I miss is the illusion I built of you in my head, the version that cared deeply, showed up consistently, and made me feel seen. That version never really existed. And though I wasted too much time trying to hold onto it, I am finally free.