The more I learned to love myself, the easier it became to see all the ways in which you were wrong for me. The ways we were wrong for each other. I’d wanted so desperately to make our death your fault that I failed to see the truth of our disconnection. I was blinded by history, and ease, and the convenient lies that hold too many people together long after it’s time for them to part. And so it was with us—time for us to part, to step into a life that no longer included one another. A life without a we. It hurt more than I can bring myself to remember, or maybe that’s just time softening the pain, healing as only years and distance can. As my love for myself grows, my love for you grows too, again, blooming brightly beside acceptance and forgiveness, for all that my mind needs to forgive. My heart broke but never stopped loving. And never started blaming. That was all in my mind. When I think of you now, or see your smile in the face of another, I smile too, with sadness that we are no more, and with gratitude that we ever were.