My final act of love was letting you go.

Summer doesn’t feel like summer anymore, but I think the skies are as blue as ever.

There is a weariness that comes with endings, but now I feel it only as the wind slips by, like a memory running away from me.

I never want to forget you, yet at times, my mind insists that it is the only way to liberate my feelings. My heart lurches at the thought of you being erased but my body exhales from the torture of guessing, from the torture of begging. I used to feel everything, but now it seems, I feel only something.

January came with an oppressive chill that would turn into storms later in April. Even then I didn’t think of you, at least not as much as I thought I would.

There was no fear that one day you would turn your back on me. There was no fear even as you warned me on the lengths of your indifference, on the width of your misery. To my eyes, you were nothing but flawed, and isn't that the essence of humanity—that imperfection defines us all?

I pushed my softness too hard by trusting, by hoping that you would see I had been standing next to you all along. In reality, it was misguided for me to love with the intention of fixing you, of wanting to be the one to kiss away your scars, even when you weren't ready to heal.

They said, I would understand one day, and I think the day came sooner than expected. I became addicted to the highs and lows, the constant push and pull. It was intoxicating, to be loved and misunderstood. It was scary as I sat on the edge waiting for the day you would be brave enough to leave, waiting for the day when we were exposed.

I was a coward.

I didn’t see any of it coming. It was hard watching you walk out the door, but there comes a time when you can’t stay anymore. I could no longer look into your eyes and pretend that the walls were not crumbling.

My hands couldn't get any tighter over your own. Your fingers slipped right through and there you were, on the other side of the wall. My screams had become inaudible, my feelings out of proportion. My mind was viciously torturing itself with the vague idea of loneliness that crippled me. You were gone and I was all alone.

There is an agony that follows everyone who thinks they are a savior. It came to me, slowly. It was the burden of abandoning myself to fix you. It was not seeing that I needed to save myself too. I was too stubborn to acknowledge that while we can be selfless, when it comes to love, things are entirely different.

I never want to blame myself for wanting. I think that blame does nothing but make the feelings rot. I never want to shame myself for hoping either, isn’t that what we do? Hope? The regret is long gone now. It's almost August and I'm scared that the skies might not be grey anymore.

How unfortunate that it took me so much time to realize it. How unfortunate that I saw your actions were reprehensible when I was at the end of your sword. The naivety in me thought you were conscientious enough not to push it in.

The idea of love that floated in my mind while young was desultory. Now I don’t think I can achieve it, with you or anyone but myself so my final act of love was letting you go.