To the one that got away, To the name my heart still flinches at, To the love I never learned how to lose, To Janitra Dewangga, who I used to call home,

The clock strikes two, and the quiet feels like a physical weight on my chest, much like the hands that used to hurt me before you came along. It’s a cruel irony, isn't it? That the silence I once ran to you to escape has now become a ghost that looks exactly like you.

I’m sitting here wondering what he has that I didn’t. I’m searching for the missing piece that made my thirteen years of devotion feel like a footnote compared to his one summer. But the truth that kills me is that I gave you the version of me I had to fight my own blood to become and you still looked past me to find him. But then I realized: **People always seem to talk more about their vacations than the houses they leave behind.

I wondered about your mornings on those days, J.** Did you let him see you in that fragile, golden haze, right before the last of the sleep left your eyes? I spent thirteen years in the room close to yours, or on the chair beside your bed, always close enough to hear you breathe but never close enough to share the same pillow.

I’ve memorized the rhythm of your nightmares from behind a closed door, staying awake in the hall so you could rest in the dark. But I never got to see how you look when the world is finally quiet and you feel safe. I was the one who stayed awake so you could rest, but he is the one you wake up to find.

My stomach is a mess of knots, a hollow ache that won’t go away, because he possesses the only thing I never dared to touch. **He got the one thing I spent my whole life wanting, but never dared to ask for.

Did you give it to him easily, J?**

Was it Berlin? Was it the version of you that existed when we talked about that city like it was a promise and not just a place? I keep thinking about how we planned it like it was inevitable. Like we were inevitable. Or at least, I was foolish enough to believe we were.

I wonder, when you were out in those amber-hued streets, did you reach for him as he began to lose his footing? When the drinks took hold and he started to lean into you, did you catch him with that same steady hand that used to pull me back from the edge? ***Did you feel powerful in that moment? Did you feel like a savior again, J?

Was he... beautiful?***  Was he that kind of breathtaking "perfection" that makes you forget someone you ever promised to love? I bet he was "dazzling." I bet he had that effortless, sun-kissed skin, the kind that doesn't look like it’s ever been bruised by life. ***Did he taste like the pastry you’ve been craving while I was just the bread you had to eat to survive?

Did he make you forget your own name?*** Because you certainly forgot mine. You forgot the love that I guarded like it was the only thing keeping me alive, the only pulse I had left. Did he make all of that look like clutter? Like old furniture you couldn't wait to throw out so you could make room for something shinier?

******If so, **I hope the new room is everything you wanted. I hope the air in Berlin is as sweet as you dreamed, even if it’s tainted by the ghost of a boy who waited for you in the dirt.

I hope his unbruised skin is soft enough to make you forget the callouses on my hands from holding onto us for too long.

I hope he never asks you to be his anchor, because I’ve finally realized that you only ever wanted to be a sail.

I don't blame him for loving you, J. How could I, when I’ve spent my whole life doing the same? ****I’m sure he is as light and kind as the morning sun. I think you chose him because he looks at you and sees a man who is already free, while I am the only one who remembers the gravity we had to fight just to stand tall. You left me because you were tired of being "the man who stayed." I bet every time you look at me, you see the version of yourself that was still learning how to survive, and I suppose it’s hard to feel like a man when you’re standing next to the only witness of your weakest.

So, fly. Take the Berlin air and make it yours. Empty your lungs of the heavy air we used to share and fill them with the lightness of a life that doesn't know my name. I’ll be the ground you no longer need to touch. I’ll be the house that keeps your history tucked away in the attic, safe and silent, so you never have to carry the weight of it into his bed.

Enjoy the sky, Janitra. I hope it’s as wide and as blue as you always promised me it would be. I loved you enough to be your survival, I loved you enough now to let you forget me. I am stepping back into the shadows of the person we used to be, just so you can finally stand in the light and feel as whole as he thinks you are.

I used to pray that you would never leave, but now I pray that you never look back. I am erasing my footsteps from your path so you don't have to stumble over our history. I am taking the 'us' out of your future so you can finally have a 'you’. Now, you just get to be a man. And if that man doesn't have room for a ghost like me, then I am glad to be dead to you.

I used to believe that loving you meant holding on until my fingers bled, but I see now that the greatest love I can offer you is leaving you be. I loved you enough to save you. I love you enough now to carry the weight of us alone, letting you walk away with hands so clean, you’ll forget they ever held mine.

With all the love I have left to give,  B.