We have this thing, you and I, that’s apparently not a thing but feels an awful lot like it is. Or was. Or — still is, kinda.
Our thing is this: while we are each other’s unabashed confidante, we also serve as a source of confidence and security. You’ve been the blanket I wrap around my shoulders and tuck between my knees. You put me back together when the days have pulled me apart. You warm my bones when the nights are cold and cruel.
I’ve been sleeping with fire and I’m tired of being burned. This isn’t a goodbye or even a get lost, it’s simply a you cannot sleep here anymore. I’m tired of basking in the artificial heat of the heart burning for someone else. You’ve reminded me of love for the longest time, but a reminder isn’t enough anymore. A memory doesn’t sustain.
I’m cutting you lose.
I’m setting me free.