I wonder, was I too much? Too full of emotion, too honest about my pain, too heavy for someone who only knew how to hold the lighter parts of me? I had storms in my life— you saw them, you stood beside me once, and I thought, maybe I’m safe here. Maybe someone stays this time. But you didn’t. You left. Not suddenly—not really. You slipped away in silence. Bit by bit. Until your absence was louder than all the things I never said. I reached for you once— just once— to ask why. Not to beg. Not to pull you back. Just to understand the shift in gravity. And even then, you answered like I was the one who should’ve already been fine without you. You said you thought I’d “gotten used to your absence.” As if pain is something we just get used to. As if friendship was something I imagined too deeply. I carried so much. But I never asked you to lift it for me. I only asked you to not disappear while I was holding it alone. And I hate that somewhere inside, I still wonder if I pushed you away just by being real. But I know better now. I know that people who leave when it gets hard were never meant to stay when it gets beautiful. So no— I wasn’t too much. I was honest. I was hurting. I was human. And you? You just didn’t know what to do with something that didn’t come with a filter. So this is my goodbye. Not because I stopped caring. But because I finally care enough about myself to stop waiting for someone who already walked away. I release you. And I return to myself