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A Letter to the Man Who Hurt Me So Bad I Don’t Think I’ll Ever Love Again

A Letter to the Man Who Hurt Me So Bad I Don’t Think I’ll Ever Love Again

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Dear Shadow of My Past,

In the quiet moments before dawn, when the world is still asleep and I am alone with my thoughts, I find myself thinking of you. Not out of longing, but out of a lingering pain that has etched itself into the very fabric of my being. You have become a ghost, haunting the corridors of my heart, a reminder of a love that turned into a lesson—a harsh one.

I once believed in love with a naivety that now seems almost childlike. You walked into my life, and with every smile, every whispered promise, I entrusted you with pieces of my heart, believing they were safe in your hands. How wrong I was. Piece by piece, you dismantled the very essence of my trust, my love, my spirit, until I was left questioning the validity of my own feelings, the worth of my own self.

You, who I loved so deeply, inflicted wounds so profound, I fear they may never fully heal. The scars you left are invisible to the eye, but they throb with a pain that time has dulled but never erased. You taught me that love could be a weapon, one that leaves no physical marks but can devastate the soul.

It’s a peculiar form of grief, mourning the loss of the person I was before I met you. I grieve for her innocence, her boundless optimism, her unshakable belief in the goodness of people. You took those from me, and in their place, you left a skepticism, a fear of vulnerability, a reluctance to open my heart again.

I want to thank you, though. It may seem strange, inconceivable even, but in the depths of my despair, I found a resilience I didn’t know I possessed. Your betrayal, while it shattered me, also forced me to rebuild myself from the ground up. I’ve learned to love myself in ways I never thought necessary, to find solace in my own company, and to seek validation not from others, but from within.

I’ve discovered strength in my solitude, a voice that had been silenced by my efforts to be what you wanted, what you needed, at the expense of my own identity. I’ve learned that my capacity to love is not diminished by your inability to value it. I am not defined by the pain you caused but by the courage I’ve found to move beyond it.

I’ve come to understand that forgiveness is not a gift to the one who wronged us but a path to freedom for ourselves. So, I forgive you. Not because what you did is excusable, but because I refuse to carry the weight of your actions any longer. I forgive you, not for your peace, but for mine.

The journey here has been long and fraught with moments of relapse into the abyss of my memories of us. Nights spent dissecting every moment, every red flag I ignored, fueled by a hope that somehow, we could revert to a time before the hurt. But such wishes are in vain, for even if we could, I am no longer the person who loved you, and I refuse to unlearn the lessons this pain has taught me.

Letting go of you, fully and truly, is a process—one that I’m still navigating. There are days when the shadows seem to lengthen, when the ghost of what we had whispers doubts into my ear. Yet, with each passing day, I choose to move forward, to step further into the light of my own growth and away from the darkness you cast over me.

I want you to know that despite everything, I still believe in love. Not the kind you showed me, but something purer, kinder, more genuine. A love that builds, not breaks. A love that heals, not harms. A love that is coming, in its own time, on its own terms.

And so, to the man who hurt me so bad I thought I’d never love again, I bid you farewell. Not with hatred or bitterness, but with a quiet resolve and a heart that, while bruised, beats still. You are but a chapter in my story, a lesson learned, a stepping stone on my journey to a love that will be all I deserve and more.

As I close this letter, I leave you in the past, where you belong, and I turn my face to the future. A future where I am whole, healed, and open to love again. A future where the pain you caused is just a distant memory, a reminder of how far I’ve come.

With strength and hope,

A Soul Moving On

  1. Teresa Gail Harris says:

    That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve read and believed for a long time I need to write my x a letter like this . You are a strong woman .thank you for the inspiration

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