Believe

I want to believe that when we met we were just right for each other at that point in time. If we'd met sooner, we never would have worked out. If we'd met later, we never would have felt that pull toward each other. 

You taught me about trust and sacrifice, about how important it was for me to say what I wanted and needed. You also taught me about heartbreak, how it comes in different shades: the bright red of anger, the darker red of passion, the deepest blue of missing you.

I want to believe that it all had a purpose, a reason, that there was a deeper meaning I had yet to grasp. You taught me how to let somebody in, how to open up, how to lay down my armour. You also taught me how much it hurts when you have shown somebody your soul and they treat your secrets like newspaper gossip. I learned how it feels when a person who has seen your heart turns into a stranger in front of your very eyes.

This goodbye wasn't tragically beautiful and I can't turn it into something that is. I tried my hardest, but I can't seem to find the lesson in it. When I look at you, I try to see a thing of the past. A fraction of time that no longer belongs with me. But somehow you're everywhere - still. Maybe trying so hard to erase you was my biggest mistake.