The Day of Forgiveness
I truly wasn't expecting birthday wishes, but once again, I’ve fallen into the same trap of love and what could have been.
I’ve said so much, yet you never asked me anything. Why do I still think you could be the one, even though you always made it painfully clear that I wasn’t the love of your life? I could never quite figure out what I meant to you. On Yom Kippur in 2022, you asked for forgiveness because you didn’t include me in a post where you acknowledged everyone else. That hurt. My greatest fear was to disappear, and in many ways, you made me feel like I did. I know it wasn’t intentional, but your constant doubts about me only deepened my own insecurities. I tried to become the person I thought you wanted, to fit into a space where I was never really welcome.
You treated me like I was at the bottom of your priorities, even though I was always there, supporting you from the sidelines. But you kept me at a distance.
The sad part is, I truly believed we had a connection—or at least I thought we did.
Now, you have someone else. What a shocker. I hope she’s everything you always seemed to want, but I know she’ll never bring to the table what I did. Even if you never recognized it. The beauty in all of this is that I now recognize my own worth. And I can’t help but wonder—what if we had met at this point in my life? Maybe we could have conquered the world together.
I wish I could say I forgive you, but to forgive, you need to understand the hurt you caused. When asking for forgiveness, you don’t repeat the same actions. Yet you kept doing just that. I was a ghost to you, nothing more. I see that clearly now.
