You were my first romantic relationship, my first in so many things. And as I sit here writing this, I want you to know—this letter isn’t meant to tear you down or paint you as a villain. Despite everything, you taught me a lot, and for that, I’m grateful. You taught me about love, about boundaries, and most importantly, about myself. It’s been over a year since we said our goodbyes, and in that time, I’ve worked through the pain, the lessons, and the healing. But this letter? It’s my way of finally letting go—of setting both of us free.
When I came back from Asia, I remember praying, telling God that I was ready for love. I had spent long hours alone, reflecting on what a healthy relationship would look like for me—what love, dating, intimacy, and boundaries really meant. But God has a way of testing what you believe you’ve healed from or are ready for, and our relationship became part of that test.
You taught me that love, in its purest form, isn’t complicated. If someone truly loves you, they don’t leave you guessing. They make sure you feel it, every day. I remember the forehead kisses, the way you always walked on the side of traffic, how you insisted on paying for everything because you believed in taking care of me. Those moments made me feel cherished. They made me feel seen.
But over time, I realized something that hurt more than I wanted to admit. Those grand gestures, the big romantic things—they masked the small, quiet ways you chipped away at my self-worth. The little snide comments, the jokes that weren’t really jokes... I let them slide because I was focused on all the things you did right. You treated me well in so many ways, but it wasn’t enough to cover the hurt.
You taught me something valuable: saying I’m beautiful and making me feel beautiful are worlds apart. You taught me that when I don’t respect my own boundaries, I leave the door wide open for others to walk right over them too. I was so inconsistent with what I needed, and looking back, if I had honored my own boundaries, we would’ve said goodbye much sooner. But love makes you blind, doesn’t it? And I was blinded by the comfort of being “chosen.”
Now, I honor my boundaries fiercely. I’ve learned that they’re not just walls to keep people out—they’re the foundation of my self-respect. You also showed me that I wasn’t as healed as I thought. I had learned to stop running away when things got tough, but I hadn’t yet learned how to speak up for what I truly needed. You taught me that, and for that, I thank you. Since then, I’ve made it a point to be intentional, to stand firm in what I deserve.
You taught me the importance of emotional availability. I won’t ever again settle for being cared for in one way but neglected in another. I deserve to be loved completely—emotionally, spiritually, and yes, even financially. You reminded me of something I’d forgotten: that my value doesn’t come from being chosen by someone else. My worth is rooted in the One who created me, who called me His own long before anyone else came into my life. I don’t need to beg to be chosen, because I already am.
There were moments when I feared I’d never be chosen again. That fear made it easier to overlook the red flags, to accept things I never should have. And when the relationship stopped feeding my soul, I stayed longer than I should have, knowing deep down that I wouldn’t be heard if I voiced my concerns. So, I let the distance grow between us, and I let go. I could have communicated that better.
As I write these final words, I want you to know that I have no regrets. It wasn’t all bad, we had some good times. Thank you for that. I don’t blame you nor have any hostility towards you. You didn’t leave deep scars, just a few fences that needed mending. I understand we can be a villain in someone else’s story even if we had the best intentions. This is just my side of what we were. We weren’t meant for each, and that’s okay. Thank you for the lessons and thank you for the time we shared.
I wish you nothing but the best,
D
Comments