subject line: maybe sometimes you let go.

 

colorado 

Are we really here again? I have loved you and had to let you go so many damn times, over and over and over again. Because I just can’t deal with your ambiguity and apathy and love-crushing pride. Not for long stretches of time anyway. I pop in every few years to check on you, and we have a laugh, ‘cause you’re polite, and then I experience the familiar heartrending realization that you stopped giving a shit years ago, and the willpower it takes to rip myself out of your life once again nearly ends me.

I used to feel heroic. Really selfless and loving, continually, faithfully pursuing your friendship in spite of your newly found penchant for not caring. I would brave your indifference valiantly. I loved you courageously in the face of your lukewarm countenance.

But I’m tired. I love you, but I’m just tired.

I will always love you, old friend, and you can always call me at 3:00 A.M. on a rainy Tuesday night, but I think I’m done coming back unannounced. I know that will hurt me more than you, but I’m learning that stepping down from a dead end relationship doesn’t mean you gave up, or you don’t love the person; it means you’re strong enough to be okay with not being needed. And most of all, it means you trust God to take care of someone who never belonged to you anyway.

So this is me, loving you and letting you go all the same. People always say you fight for the ones you love. But maybe sometimes you let go of the ones you love. And that is just as brave.