i. It doesn’t matter that we ended. Life moves on. People forget. Friends become strangers. The ones that you love(d) change.
ii. That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you. I did. In my own convoluted, messy way. I did.
iii. I’m sorry I couldn’t heal the wounds in your chest, I tried. I’m sorry for creating them. I never knew that I was capable of hurting anyone like that until I hurt you.
iv. But… I know that war is never one sided. Sometimes, sometimes I feel like I lost a limb in that battle too.
v. When it comes down to it, I’m grateful for our moments of silence, our moments of peace, interspersed with laughter. I’m grateful for your kindness.
vi. Maybe I’ll never stop writing about you.
vii. But you should probably stop reading what I write.
viii. The truth is that some nights I still feel unbearable. But I’m getting there, I’m getting there. Most days now, I feel alright."
— Kanthala Raghu // A Letter
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My Write-Ups
