It takes me a lot to completely stop caring about someone, no matter how much they've wronged me or how badly we've parted. No matter how much I tried to be one of those girls who could just give you the middle finger before sauntering away from your life and never to be seen again, I care so much deep down.

I'll still wonder how your dad is doing and if your relationship is a bit better now. I'll still wonder if you ended up passing your GAMSAT. I'll still wonder if you've managed to buy that inner-city apartment with the yellow ambient lighting you've always wanted, and if this song that just came on the radio is still your favourite or is it just a fad?

I wonder if you feel comfortable telling new people about your deepest fears, your wildest aspirations or even secrets you said you've only revealed to me. The truth is, I haven't found someone else that made me vulnerable enough to spill all the aforementioned after you.

You've reached out once years after no contact, asking for a chance to sit down and talk, and oh, wouldn't the old me just jump at that chance, praising the universe for answering her prayers.

Wouldn't she be esctatic about the chance to talk about all the things she's kept hidden in her heart, all her tiny nothings to big somethings that you've missed out for about 2 years?

I ended up saying no to that offer, because we're now different people, aren't we? It's been so long I don't even know where to put my hands or where to rest my gaze if you're across me, and I'd rather not be there in person to reaffirm this reality.

The reality that we've indeed drifted so far apart even sustaining small talk would be hard, no matter how much of a sociable extrovert you are.

So no matter how heartless that response would've came across to you, know that I think that's the best way forward. No matter how much I ever cared for you and still continue to (to some extent), perhaps the final act of love is just never intersecting our lives like that anymore.

Perhaps the final act of love is to live well and happy if not for one another, for ourselves and for our loved ones. Perhaps the final act of love is to accept that maybe we would meet again in another lifetime, but not this one.

And that's on the love for myself and not you.

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