Maybe it was only my echo, a version of me that never got to say goodbye to you. It sounds cruel, doesn’t it? Almost like saying I never came back to you at all, as if everything between us had been unreal. But it was never unreal. You and I both know that. Maybe that is why I reached for you again. Not to begin, but because something in me could not settle with the way we ended, or rather, the way we never did. You left without words, without goodbye, and I was left holding a story that had nowhere to land. I think, deep down, I only wanted to close that door properly. But we stayed. Longer than a goodbye should ever take. In this version of reality, I am the one who leaves. The one who walks away without looking back. Maybe I had grown tired of the beast that hope had become in my heart, or maybe I could no longer bear watching you live in fractured realities, trying to hold everyone together, trying to keep everything from falling apart. I saw that, and perhaps selfishly, I decided I should be the one to end us so the life you built could finally breathe again. A thousand little bruises linger quietly in me, small reminders of what we were, each one easing softly as I prepare to let go. And now I understand that sometimes the last act of loving someone is leaving. You said I won, because this time I was the one who left. You said it as if it were revenge. I won’t deny that I resent what you did to us back then. I don’t think I will ever fully unlearn it. But this was never revenge. I just needed my life back, and I needed to return yours to you. You said I’ve won, but to me, winning would have been a life with you, not losing you like this. I have never won. If anything, I am the one who lost everything, because in every version of this world where I choose myself, I still end up losing you, and somehow, I think I was only ever meant to come back so I could finally learn how to leave. M. | a thousand little bruises March 2026

Maybe it was only my echo, a version of me that never got to say goodbye to you. It sounds cruel, doesn’t it? Almost like saying I never came back to you at all, as if everything between us had been unreal. But it was never unreal. You and I both know that. Maybe that is why I reached for you again. Not to begin, but because something in me could not settle with the way we ended, or rather, the way we never did. You left without words, without goodbye, and I was left holding a story that had nowhere to land. I think, deep down, I only wanted to close that door properly. But we stayed. Longer than a goodbye should ever take. In this version of reality, I am the one who leaves. The one who walks away without looking back. Maybe I had grown tired of the beast that hope had become in my heart, or maybe I could no longer bear watching you live in fractured realities, trying to hold everyone together, trying to keep everything from falling apart. I saw that, and perhaps selfishly, I decided I should be the one to end us so the life you built could finally breathe again. A thousand little bruises linger quietly in me, small reminders of what we were, each one easing softly as I prepare to let go. And now I understand that sometimes the last act of loving someone is leaving. You said I won, because this time I was the one who left. You said it as if it were revenge. I won’t deny that I resent what you did to us back then. I don’t think I will ever fully unlearn it. But this was never revenge. I just needed my life back, and I needed to return yours to you. You said I’ve won, but to me, winning would have been a life with you, not losing you like this. I have never won. If anything, I am the one who lost everything, because in every version of this world where I choose myself, I still end up losing you, and somehow, I think I was only ever meant to come back so I could finally learn how to leave. M. | a thousand little bruises March 2026

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