sjedim na krevetu

i pored mene prazna boca ruma

pokušavam se sjetiti naših najljepših trenutaka

i zagrljaja

podjeljene cigarete

i riječi koje smo si rekli

tako je predivno misliti o tebi prije sna

misliti o tome što bi bilo da je bilo

Love,

I want to start by saying sorry—truly, deeply sorry—for the way I answered your last question. I know it hurt. The truth is, my heart held a completely different answer from the one I gave you. But at that moment, I felt like you were already looking for a way out, and I didn’t want to make it harder for you. I thought, if I gave you something final, something clean, you wouldn’t second-guess yourself. I didn’t want you stuck in between. So I said what I said… even if it broke my own heart to do it.

I wish you knew how hard that was for me. I wish you knew that I had already bought a ring—I was planning to propose to you, even this early. That’s how much I believed in us. That’s how certain I was. But I failed. Not because I stopped loving you, but because I didn’t know how to love you in a way that made you feel secure, seen, and chosen every day.

Looking back now, I realize that maybe I made you feel like a fallback. Like you were only there when it was convenient. And that thought breaks me.

Because from the very beginning, my intentions were real. I wanted something honest, something lasting with you. But somewhere along the way, I fell short. Maybe I wasn’t consistent. Maybe I didn't make enough effort to truly understand what you were going through. Maybe I failed to make you feel that you were worth the effort, the plans, the time. And I see now how my responses—distant, dismissive at times—could have hurt. Maybe the way I replied with a simple “eh,” or a shrug, or gave you coldness when you tried to be warm—that wasn’t fair to you.

You were reaching out, and I met you with indifference.

You were trying to create space for connection, and I filled it with delays, excuses, and half-hearted energy. I didn't always match your enthusiasm. I didn’t always choose us when it mattered. You invited me to things—dates, simple moments—and I declined. That must have hurt. That must have felt like rejection. And I’m sorry for every time I made you feel like you weren’t worth showing up for.

What you were looking for—companionship, consistency, sincerity—I see now that I made you feel like you were chasing it alone. Like you were the only one trying. And I understand why you had to pull back. Why you had to protect your heart.

I’m not writing this to erase your pain or to make excuses. I’m writing this because the truth matters, and you deserve to hear mine. You were never a fallback. You were never just an option. And if my actions made you feel that way, then I failed you in ways I didn’t realize until it was too late.

You are someone I looked up to, someone I dreamed with. You gave me your time, your effort, your patience—and I didn’t always meet you with the same. That imbalance created a distance neither of us could cross.

Still, I want you to know: I was serious about you. I saw a future. I held that hope close, even when things got tough. And if I didn't show it the right way, if I was too slow, too guarded, too unsure—I’m sorry. I carry that regret with me.

You have an amazing heart, and I hope you never let this experience make you doubt your worth. I'm proud of everything you're doing—especially your journey through clerkship. You are surrounded by people who love and support you, and I’m one of them, even from a distance.