It took my heart two years to accept what my brain already knew. That I could love someone, but accept that I couldn’t be in love with them. To accept that words don’t mean much. To accept that I didn’t mean much to them.
I finally accepted it, and let go. It makes me sad. I didn’t want to let go, but when you’re constantly shown that you don’t matter, you have to accept it.
That when you try to explain how you’re feeling, and get told that you’re being mean or arguing, you just give up. My feelings didn’t matter.
I could have stayed in love forever, but I was shown that it just wasn’t worth it. I know it’s for the best. I’m glad it’s over. My husband is beyond relieved.
I’m grateful that David let me work things through on my own time. The feelings died a natural death. I’m happy that I have a good man, and that I didn’t permanently damage our marriage.
It took two years to let go. From the beginning I knew there was no hope of it being real. But my heart refused to give up. My heart finally learned its lesson. I let go. I will always love him as a friend, but nothing else.