I know you don't love me anymore. I get that, and I understand. I'm not trying to change your mind, and I really do hope you find happiness.
I just... I miss you. I miss talking to you, and hearing about your day/ I miss sending you stupid things I find online. I hear songs that I know you'd like, but that I can't send to you. I miss cooking with you, and watching crap TV - Netflix and chill, but like, actually Netflix and chill. I miss the smile on your face after we haven't seen each other for an age, and I miss how perfectly we fit together when we hugged.
I know - I know it's my fault. I know that I'm the one who stopped talking to you. But I had reasons. I realised something, in the moments before we broke up. I realised that the last time - the first time we broke up - I never gave you space. I never let you get over me, and that, maybe moreso than anything else, lead to you taking me back. I have restless nights wondering whether, had I done the decent thing and let you move on the first time round, would you have wasted another 2 years with me? You're happier now, I think. Would you have been happier then?
I love you. I read somewhere that love is like waves in the ocean; sometimes its a little sway that I feel, and other times - times like tonight - it crashes over me in waves that leave me struggling to breathe. But whatever the strength, it is always there - it has always been there, from the first time we kissed, right up until today.
I'm sorry that I love you - I know your life would have been so much simpler if I didn't.
