A Letter I Will Never Send

I've known you most of my life. 26 years is a long time to share memories, laughter, inside jokes, and versions of ourselves that only we knew. You weren't just a friend - you were part of my history, part of who I became. And that's why this hurts in a way that's hard to explain to anyone else.

When things started to change between us, I tried to understand. I accepted our differences. I didn't judge you. I apologized for my part even when sometimes I didn't fully understand. I kept showing up, I kept reaching out, kept hoping we'd find our way back to each other. I wanted peace between us more than anything. But sometimes love isn't about holding on - it's about knowing when to step back and let go.

I carried the weight of fixing what broke between us and I did it quietly because I thought that's what love and loyalty looked like. But overtime it became clear that I was holding onto it alone. When I chose to step back it wasn't easy. It wasn't about anger or resentment. It was self-preservation. I was entering a new chapter in my life - becoming a mother - and I needed peace, stability and emotional safety. Becoming a mother has shown me how precious my energy is, and how important it is to protect it.

I grieve what we used to be. I grieve the closeness we shared. I grieve the version of us that could have grown together instead of apart. I grieve the moments you weren't there for. But I also feel gratitude - for the years we spent together, for the ways you shaped who I am and for the memories that will always belong to us.

This isn't a door slammed shut. It's a gentle goodbye, a recognition that love and care can take new forms, even if that means walking separate paths. I wish you happiness, peace and all the good life has to offer. And I honour myself for choosing what I needed, and for protecting my family as we move forward.

Thank you for the chapters we wrote together. I will carry them quietly, with respect and warmth. And will never forget.

Goodbye