A Letter to the Person Who Tried to Measure My Love

I have learned a strong lesson, one I know I’ve been denying for years. One I should have realized back in November, when those words cut the air like ice and I was told “I think about you from time to time”. I should have realized then the fight was over, and even though how much I tried, that love was never going to be reciprocated.

I believe there comes a point in our lives that relationships either grow with you or break apart, and you are going to have to be okay with that. The worst thing you can do to yourself is try and chase it.

You told me “they warned me about you” about a third party who has not wanted to know me after 8 years. All I can think about is how sad that is. Even though I was so mad and wasn’t thinking, I yelled back, “me too!” but once that door was slammed, they were the only words I wanted to take back. Because I wasn’t warned.  On my side, I was told “how amazing you’re going to have someone like that in Paris with you after everything that’s happened, I’m so glad you guys are so close.”

I told you secrets in privacy, but I’ve heard they reached the ears of those I asked you not to tell. You tried twisting my words when I confronted you about it, saying that if I was saying such a thing, your secrets have reached those you did not want as well. Lie. Every time someone asked me how you were, I’d reply with “a rough time, she’s going through some things but I’ll let her tell you if she wants to”.

You tried measuring love. It was a battle about who had it worst the month of March, and all I wanted you to know was to never use that as an emotional card with me because out of everyone in the world, I am one of those people who understands the most when you speak about that night. The love for people is not measured. I lost him too. Miles will never measure love, and that’s something I thought you understood as we live in this foreign land.

I think about him every morning I wake up. I wonder if he would be proud. Not just proud in me but proud in us. In how we have all ended things. In how it’s war. I know in the end that all he wants is for all of us to be happy. I haven’t moved on from the month of March. I still relive it. I still hear that phone ringing, my Dad’s voice when he broke the news… I still feel the confusion. I still wonder “why us?” And I still hurt. But I can’t live the rest of my life caught up in that moment, scared of every March that passes because there are more nights like that waiting in the future.

I learned family isn’t just by name, but they are the people that check up on you and really care about the hard moments you’re going through as well as the good ones. They’re the people that will hear you rant and give advice. They’re the people that want to be there.

“Good luck with your life because sooner or later, you are going to need it” are words that came out of your mouth before the screams. They are words you’ve written. Thanks for those parting words but I don’t need them. Luck doesn’t happen but is made, and I worked my way here. I really do hope you find everything you are looking for.

Besos,

Veronica

Twitter: @kikalavil

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kikalavil

Instagram: @kikalavil

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