Dear... C
I guess I wanted to start by saying I'm over it. I don't miss you. I don't miss what we had. Dare I say, I'm glad it's gone.
In case you were wondering, I'm doing good. Better than I ever was. You don't need to tell me how you are—I don't care. And I'm not sorry. Apologies are for the weak.
I don't miss who I was, either. I was foolish. I drank your sweet poisons until I lost control of myself. You tricked me. I was stupid and naïve. I'd like you to know I'm not anymore. I don't miss the days we spent together. I don't miss getting lost on the trails in the cool spring air. I don't miss playing games in the library, almost always losing to you. I don't miss our idiotic philosophical conversations over text that lasted for hours. I don't miss your dog, raven fur under my hand. I don't miss praying we were in classes together. I don't miss waiting for you. I don't miss helping you. I don't miss consoling you. I don't miss any of it at all.
But it's nostalgic.