You remembered me of him, strong and kind, confident… in your own way. You even look like him.
He and I met in the subway platform just like you and I met. Like you, he carried a handkerchief. I was very sick at that time and he take care of me, like you did. As you and I got to know each other, I felt the clog begins to lift a little bit. I thought it was the similarities between you and him, and so, I decided that you and I would do everything he and I done; that way, it would almost like he never died and the pain would stop.
Because on our 33rd day together, he bought me a rose, I ask you to do the same. Because he and I planned our future under this tree, I chose it for you and I as well. Because he and I had a favorite restaurant, I bought you there. Because he died in the ocean, I pushed you to go in and then saved you.
All of those was crazy and selfish and wrong, I know, but grief can make us crazy. Anyway, it didn’t work and at certain point I realized I didn’t like you because of him, I liked you because I like you. And every time I started to be happy, I would stop myself. It felt wrong to be happy; it felt wrong to let go and just forget about him, even for just a minute. It felt I was betraying him. All I can do was hurt you, and that’s not me, that’s not me at all. And someday I hope I can show you as much.
Something has to be done. In order for us to have a chance in the future, I have to make a break with the past and for this I needed time. I hope I heal while we’re apart, and sit with you while reading this. But if I'm not, it's not because I don’t love you, because I do. It's not because I don’t miss you, because I miss you already. It just means that I’m not better and the story isn’t over yet.