I can’t keep living like this. And it’s not your fault—it’s mine. I’m living for you when I should be living for myself, for evenings with friends and holidays with family. Because there isn’t a we. I have to live my own life.

And it isn’t you. I’ve been living in a fantasy, that’s the problem, a fantasy of you and me. I keep thinking that one day you’ll wake up and see me waiting here for you and everything will be like it’s supposed to. You’ll say hi and I’ll say hi and you’ll run your hand through your hair and the spikes will flip back up and I’ll laugh cause it’s cute and you’ll tell me I have a nice smile cause you like the way I squint and my freckles squish around my eyes. We’ll go to the docks, like we always do, and I’ll say the sea smells nice and you’ll say it looks a bit green like its sick and I’ll say that’s the way it’s supposed to look cause this isn’t Hawaii and you’ll say well it doesn’t look good for swimming and I’ll tell you of course it’s good for swimming and we should go sometime and you’ll promise we will someday. Someday isn’t going to come though. You’ll never get to read the notes or see the orange roses with the peeling petals I bought you. I wrote them every day, you know, little haikus and couplets. I thought you’d like that. They’re all stacked on the nightstand under the roses with wilting petals.

I guess we’re just not meant to be. I was so sure we were, yet here we are. Here I am, spilling my guts. Honestly, I can’t stand that we aren’t meant to be. It’s like losing faith. But I guess I have to let go of that the way I have to let go of you. You know, every day I dream about you and me. And you and me don’t exist. At least, not like that. I have to shake that out of my head. So it’s me. It’s my problem.

I can’t forget that time we stayed on the phone till two in the morning, just talking, and the way you laughed at my crappy jokes. That was wonderful. I won’t forget that. I was the most in love with you in those moments. Those were the moments you could have asked me to do anything for you and I would have said yes without hesitation. I was too afraid to tell you this before, but you left me breathless. I should have told you sooner. I guess I’m telling you now, though, and that must count for something.
But I can’t help but feel like it’s too late. It’s so hard to find that place between too soon and too late. I’m not sure it exists, really, if there’s a right time to say I love you. I haven’t found it anyway. I know this is terrible timing but I have to tell you that I love you.

But I have to stop thinking about it, because it won’t bring you to me. So I’m going to try to forget how it felt when you smiled at me and how it felt when we spoke in unison. I have to move on, even if it’s without you, even if it hurts. I have to move on.

I’m sorry I’m telling you all this, but I feel like I should explain myself. I need to tell you why I can’t see you anymore. We’ll meet again someday, I’m sure, but at least for now I need to let you go. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for letting you go, but I have to try to live my own life. I hope you can forgive me.

I love you, but it’s not enough. Sometimes love doesn’t conquer. Sometimes it dies. And I’m going to let it, because we can’t save it. I can’t save it. So I’m going to let them unplug you now. They said you’ll stop breathing and your heart will stop beating and it will be slow, but you won’t feel a thing. I’m glad. I wonder if you can even feel this right now. If you can feel me leaving you. Well, in case you can, here’s the ring. I can’t keep it. Not if I’m going to keep going. Not if I’m going to live.

I’ve stayed with you through everything—rich and poor, sickness and health—but I can’t watch you die. I’m not going to stay, so this is goodbye. See you later, love.