Dear Ex-Lover-friend-confidant-artist-poet

Dear Ex-Lover-friend-confidant-artist-poet,

I understand that you don't understand me anymore. It seems strange that in the midst of confusion the only time I was able to make sense out of things was when we were talking or laughing or writing or just being. You helped me understand love and that it was okay to be who I was truly. When I questioned my confidence you reassured me that I was stronger than those who tried to emotionally kill me.

Unfortunately in this strange and baffling age of technology and multiple ways of communication, we no longer share air waves or likes or moments of subliminal "I know you are still present in my life" exchanges. It's okay. I understand, but I have to let you know what you taught me.

True, I was a dis-proportioned, hurt, damaged, tainted and confused female being when we met. You found a way to befriend the muse inside me and I didn't even know resisting was an option. I willingly gave into the creative being you managed to break out of my veins and suddenly I found myself learning how to be inspired. My fingers seemed to grace a pen as though they were lost lovers and you had reunited them. I would stay up until 3am writing of my 3am thoughts and allowing them to get lost in hidden posts or the lines of my notebook. I fell for you. Strangely, you never seemed to know how I needed your presence (lack of a presence). Now, here we are. Missing wave lengths and I don't even think you notice. Which is okay. I've learned to be okay with that. Not because I have a "new love" or because I've failed at my "old love," but because you taught me that love comes in different forms and molds itself around different people. You taught me how to love you in a way that I didn't think humans could love...from a distance, abandoned and alone, but okay.

I don't know how else to express to you how much your brief (even though I thought it would be for a lifetime) friendship with me helped birth what was lost for so long. I will remember and appreciate you until my hair ages and my memory falls into the air that once held your voice. I hope one day, you'll catch that breeze across your neck and remember that once upon a time, a distant and lonely girl learned to love again because you showed her it was okay.
And I hope you're okay.
Are you okay?