I wrote you a letter three years ago. And then I rewrote it, and I rewrote it again. I didn’t know how was I feeling, and I wasn’t ready to share that with the world, until today.

I did not write this letter because I want to hurt you. I wrote this because this is the only way I can repair myself. This is my way of mending the wounds you left; my way of filling the empty holes that are slowly consuming me — because the pain has to stop somehow.

Do you still remember? How fearful I was to get attached to you? I think that was our first real argument. I was so scared to have something so beautiful, that suddenly, I have something to lose. And then, the inevitable came. I lost the one thing I wanted the most — I lost you.

I lost the boy that I loved. I lost the person who made me the happiest. I lost the daily messages and sweet selfies. I lost the forehead kisses and the late-night drives. I lost the misadventures and the nightly cuddles — and God knows how much I'll miss them.

I want to tell you three things.

First, thank you.

I’ve experienced sadness, but nothing hurt as much as finding out the person I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with had betrayed me. Now, three years later, I truly never thought I would be at this point, the point where I will be thanking you.

Along with losing you, I also started losing the sadness that came with loving you. I started losing the self-hate and the questions that always lingered my mind: Was I not enough? Am I doing something wrong? Do you not love me anymore? I started losing the tears that came every time I thought about you. One night, it just stopped. I could not cry about you anymore. I could not keep beating myself up just because you do not see my value. I may have lost you, but I found myself in the process of doing so. So for that, I thank you.

I thank you for the broken promises and the hurtful words. I thank you for the blatant excuses and the lies that came with them. I thank you for all the times you chose other people over me (and God knows how painful it is to be your least priority). I thank you for the inconsistency and the plans never made into action. I thank you for the days I spent locked inside my room, wondering if I did something wrong. Thank you for the heartbreak. It is indeed painful — more than I could ever put into words. But it helped me, somehow. So thank you.

Thank you for pushing me to the point of feeling like I was worthless. This feeling of worthlessness leads me to independence. It forced me to go on with my life on my own. It forced me to find happiness within myself. Thank you for hurting me so badly that I now know what I deserve.

Second, I’m praying for you.

I can't deny that I've had the best times with you. You knew me more than any other person — my crazy quirks, my endless secrets, my stupid routines — everything. I have poured every inch of my being to you. I have loved you with all my heart.

I pray that you find a way to love well and stay faithful. I pray that you do well in your life. I pray that you find happiness and you find yourself in the One who has been my saving grace throughout the aftermath of our relationship.

Lastly, I’m not sorry.

You told me that you were no longer happy. I agreed because I had no energy to fight with you. I wanted to fight for you, but you closed me out. That’s when it hit me. That’s when I realized my sanity and happiness is what is most important. I needed to start doing things for me.

Finally, I can look in the mirror and realize the pain that I have experienced isn’t my fault. I’m not sorry for the time it has taken me to heal. I’m not sorry for wondering about you. I’m not sorry that I have loved you. I’m not sorry that I lost you, and finally, I’m not sorry that I found myself when I lost you.

I can't lie. My heart still shatters every time I'm reminded of you. Hell, I'd still tear myself apart for you in a heartbeat. But I'm slowly learning to stop. My pen would always bleed your name, that's the truth. You would always be a part of me. But someday — sooner, I hope — I'll finally be able to let you go. This letter is one step closer to moving on, and I find comfort in that.

I have loved you, maybe I still do.

But then again, the pain has to stop somehow. I always wished the best for you. But maybe the best for you does not include me — and I'm starting to learn how to live with that. I hope you do too.

So to the boy I have loved, and thought I would spend my life with: you set me free, and for that, I am thankful, prayerful, and unapologetic.