You were once a mirror to my wounds,
A reflection of struggles unseen, unheard.
In the beginning, perhaps, our souls met,
Not in harmony, but in shared shadows,
Bound not by love, but by a silent ache—
A bond forged in trauma’s restless fire.
For so long, I questioned myself,
Wondered if honesty had fractured us,
If I had failed to see what was real.
But time’s quiet wisdom whispered:
I was not wrong to seek truth,
To hold up a lantern in the dark.
Your silence once thundered in my mind,
Echoing doubts I carried like weights.
But I sought to understand—
Not you, but myself.
I unraveled the knots of our bond,
Threads tangled in fear, in wounds unseen.
Now, the threads lie still.
The bond is no longer a chain,
But a lesson, a path I walked to freedom.
I see you now, not as a villain,
But as a soul in its own storm,
Navigating waves I cannot chart.
I do not know where you are,
Or if you’ve found calmer waters.
I hope you have,
Not out of longing, but from humanity.
We all carry scars, and some of us heal,
While others press them deeper, unknowing.
Your silence has no power now.
It speaks not of me, but of you.
And I, once tethered by unspoken words,
Am whole, untangled, free.
I thank you for the gift you gave unknowingly:
The push to seek myself, to understand, to grow.
Our meeting was no mistake,
But a moment meant to teach,
To reveal the strength within the struggle.
And so, I send this message into the void,
Not in anger, not in sorrow,
But in gratitude for what I have become.
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