I hate to say this, but I was wrong. It is entirely possible to hate a person when the rose-colored glasses come off. I told you and myself that I could never hate someone I loved, and it kills me that this might mean I’m finally moving on, finally letting go. I am afraid to let go of you. You’re all I’ve known for so long. And it’s been so long without you that I can’t really remember you anymore, can’t really remember us anymore. I’m scared. But I’m happier too. Freer. How did I let you hurt me so badly for so long? I guess the price we pay for love is pain … and this pain is never-ending. I mourn the love I gave you, I mourn the pieces of me I lost in you, and I mourn the idea I had of who you were when you shared yourself with me. I mourn the sentiment that I could never hate you, and I mourn the night you watched me break with not a thought of remorse. I will forever mourn these things, perhaps, just as I will forever avoid your name and the thought of you, just as I will see you in everything I do. Time will heal all, yes, but it can’t come fast enough for me to seem to move past you and the impact you’ve made on me.