Dear Sam,
It has been one year, seven months, and eight days since you broke my heart.
Since that day I have cried over you, I have shouted at you, I have told you I’m over you, I have told you I’m not over you, I have told you I miss you, I have hated you, I have told you I still love you, I have told you I don’t want to be with you. I have told you all these things and more, I have felt all these things and more, I have pieced my broken heart back together the best I can, and now you are my friend.
We don’t talk as often as I’d like, but I’m glad we do talk. But soon you’re going away and I don’t know when I’ll see you. I’d like to think you’ll let me visit you, like you said you would, but I know it will never happen.
I have come to realise that I will probably always love you, in some shape or form, and while it nolonger hurts me that we aren’t together, my heart still aches from time to time. Because although I pieced it back together, you still have that piece I gave you. You always will.
