Dear TOTGA,
I hope this finds you well. I apologize for sending this, yet I need to, this year, I am trying to transition. To let go, to close the chapters I’ve carried too long. I have written letters to those I love, those I once loved, those I wronged, and those who wronged me. This letter is my attempt to make peace with myself, to release the unsaid words that anchor me, that weigh me down. Please keep it to yourself.
I won’t write much, so here it is:
I am sorry. For any pain I caused you, for any confusion, frustration, or humiliation. I humiliated myself, too, most of all, when I handed you that letter in front of your family. That letter, in truth, was a mistake. I never intended to give it to you; my best friend urged me on, and I let it happen. I sought peace, but somewhere along the way, I expected a response. If I could go back, I would not have given it. You never really understood the eleven pages, and neither did I, fully.
When you came home last January, I felt joy for you. Seeing you happy with your family, it should have been simple, but it was bittersweet. When I saw you jogging past your home, or crossing paths with you and your family, I wanted the ground to swallow me. Not out of bitterness, not out of anger, simply out of embarrassment. Embarrassment for the fool I made of myself. For the moments I cannot erase, the moments that replay every time I see someone who knows you.
There’s a theory called “The Last Meeting” when two people have finished their purpose in each other’s lives, the universe will never let them meet again. I thought it applied to us. We don’t live in the same country; we have almost no connections. And yet, the universe finds ways to remind me of you. I avoid places, people, even memories tied to you but still, you appear. Perhaps it is coincidence. Perhaps it is memory. I know life moves forward. I avoided you for so long because of shame. But I am in a new chapter now, and I believe you are too. I wish you well. And if fate allows us to meet again, maybe it is just a test.
I admit I overreacted, too much, too emotional, too attached, too foolish. We were young, and I was gullible. Maybe it was all a joke to you; maybe you were bored. Yet I held onto your words, your messages, the promises I believed were meant for me. I assumed, I trusted, I believed. I admit it, I gave more love than I gave respect to myself.
I still wonder why I hurt so much. Why healing took so long. I have moved on, yet sometimes I look back, not out of longing, but out of sorrow for what I allowed myself to endure. Your apology felt forced. Perhaps because it was. You may not realize the depth of the cut you made. I was never upset because you didn’t feel as I did, I was upset because you acted as if you did. And then you left.
I have spent a long time asking myself why it took me so long to let go of you. I don’t think it was only about you. I think it was about the version of us that existed in my mind, the small moments, the words you once said, the promises I quietly believed. I held onto them like proof that what I felt was real.
Maybe I stayed too long because I kept waiting for something that would make the pain make sense. A clearer ending, a genuine apology, or even just the acknowledgment that what happened between us meant something. When that never came, I filled the silence with my own explanations, and somehow that kept me tied to the past longer than I should have been.
But I also realize now that sometimes we hold on not because the person is still there, but because we are trying to protect the part of ourselves that loved deeply. Letting go felt like admitting that all of that love had nowhere to go. And for a long time, I didn’t know what to do with it.
I do not write to reignite anything or to reopen old wounds. They say, “You cannot unlock a new door with your hands full of old keys.” And yet, sometimes I find myself still holding fragments of the past, afraid that letting go means losing a part of who I was, forgetting the love, the mistakes, the lessons. But I am learning that release is not loss, it is the only way to step forward fully, with empty hands and an open heart.
Setting aside the past, how are you? Tell me how you’re doing and whisper it into the air. As for me, life has taken me somewhere new. I’m still here, still dancing, still stepping onto stages, still chasing crowns. But I’ve grown into a quieter version of the girl you once knew: less dramatic, less foolish, and a little more careful with my heart. I’ve also stepped into public service, trying to give something meaningful back. Life has been teaching me a lot lately especially about standing on my own and finding peace in the quiet spaces. I’ve realized I shouldn’t step into new things while still carrying the past especially when it comes to love. It isn’t fair to begin something new while parts of me are still wounded. This year feels like a season of transition for me, and perhaps that’s why I’m writing this.
I genuinely wish you the best. I hope you grow, and that you love the way you deserve to be loved. I hope you treat your partner better than I could. And I hope, one day, I heal fully so the past no longer shadows my present.
Take care of yourself, always. May life treat you kindly, and may you find all the happiness you deserve. God bless.
From the pages I’ve turned,
R - ‘22