You once told me..
“Go find your beach, Mariposa."
The day after you said that, a dog came into my shelter. Her name was “Mariposa”. I didn’t need to romanticize it.. I just took it as a quiet reminder that I was already on my path. That my name, my growth, my becoming.. they were mine long before they were ever tied to you.
For a long time, I believed you were that beach.. the place I could rest, feel safe, feel seen. I wasn’t ready then to stand fully in who I was, and I let it slip through my hands.
But when I became ready.. when I could meet love with steadiness, accountability, and truth.. I realized I was willing to face the hard things together. I was ready. You were not. What once felt like refuge became shifting sand, because I was prepared to build on solid ground, and you were already moving with the tide.
I loved you. That’s the truth I won’t rewrite. I loved the way you looked at me, the chemistry we couldn’t fake, the intimacy that felt electric and real. I also loved the version of you I believed would stay.. the one who would sit with hard truths beside me and grow through them instead of around them.
What hurts isn’t just losing you. It’s losing my best friend. It’s losing the future I thought we were building. When things became uncomfortable, you chose quick relief over repair.. something new, over something deep. And I can’t say I fully understand that choice. But I respect that it was yours to make. I hope it brings you what you believe you needed, even if it wasn’t what we were building together.
Choosing relief meant avoiding the full truth and leaving me in confusion. It meant moving forward instead of staying present. I was willing to stay and face it together.
In the later moments of our story, there were sudden waves of intensity between us.. powerful closeness, overwhelming affection, words that felt like permanence.. followed by distance when steadiness was required. The random surges of love felt real in the moment, but the inconsistency left me uncertain and unanchored. I kept hoping intensity would turn into stability. But intensity and safety are not the same thing.
I can’t help but wonder if she knows you were still in love with me when something new began. I’ve felt the urge to expose the overlap, to make the truth visible, to force accountability into the light. But I am not that person anymore. I don’t need to disrupt someone else’s life to validate my own pain. My integrity matters more than retaliation.
I choose certainty and safety within myself. ❤️‍🩹🦋
