Dearest X

Dear X,

I know I'm running pretty late, but I still haven't forgotten. Happy Birthday.

I'm not going to lie: I thought seriously about putting a card in the mail for you for your birthday, like I did for Y. What stopped me, though, was the fear that it might upset you. So in lieu of that, I'll settle for doing what I do every year and posting another one of those letters I'll never send right here on my blog.

Even after all this time and all that happened, I still love you. I think about you every day. Sometimes, the desire to reach out to you is overwhelming. The only reason I don't give in is, again, the fear of upsetting you. I feel sure you're much happier in your life if I stay away, and I don't blame you at all for that. All I ever did was bring you grief.

I hope you're happy. I really, really do. I hope you're so ridiculously happy with your life that nothing in the world could ever bring you down. I hope you will be that happy today, tomorrow, and forever. You deserve it.

I'm a fool, but a part of me still hopes every morning when I wake up and check my email that I might have something from you. It's false hope. I know you won't be sending anything, and that's fine. I understand. But that last stubborn little faint spark of hope refuses to go out, so there it is. I won't ever reach out to you, no matter how strong the desire is, but if you ever reached out to me, I'd never turn you away out of pride...or out of anything else, actually. I'd be too happy to hear your voice or read your words to ever do that.

Even now, I still have your number in my phone. Hell, I don't even know if it's still *your* number. But I've still got it, regardless. And every time I scroll past it in my contacts, I feel a tiny smile come to my face. Then, the pain and the guilt come back, and the smile is forgotten, but the twinge happens every time I see your name in my phone.

I miss you. Desperately. I was unforgiveably cruel to you, partly because I was crazy, but mostly because you were everything I ever wanted to be and couldn't. I was envious, and rather than dealing with it myself, I let it bleed over into our relationship and hurt you time and time again. I'm so sorry. I know you don't believe it--and I can't say that I blame you--but I did love you then, and I still love you now.

I hope your birthday goes well and that the rest of your life does, too. I don't know how things are now, but I remember that back then, you used to be plagued with doubts about yourself. Please don't doubt yourself. We all have flaws, yes, but inside, you are good and kind and warm and competent and good at everything you do.

And, please, if you ever need anything, all you have to do is reach out, and I will be there, no questions asked.

Happy Birthday, my love.

~Bunny