Dear Clark

Dear Clark,

This is the letter I should have written long ago, but maybe I wasn't ready then. Maybe I kept holding on to the small hope that silence could fix us, that waiting could bring you back. But last night, I finally broke that silence. I sent you the words I had buried for too long, and though I don't know if you read them, though I don't expect you to answer, they were mine to release. And now, I write this letter to say the one thing I never said out loud: goodbye.

You'll never understand how much I carried for us. How many times I bent myself just to keep us afloat. I adjusted, I swallowed my pain, I asked if you were okay even when I was breaking inside. I told myself love meant sacrifice, and I gave until there was almost nothing left of me. And yet, you never asked if I was okay. Not once.

Do you know how that feels, Clark? To be invisible to the one person you'd do anything for? To feel like your love was shallow compared to mine? I know now why it was so easy for you to block me, to disconnect our apps, to erase the pieces of us without hesitation. Because your love was not built as deep as mine. Mine was roots; yours was surface. And still, I grieved you as though I had lost my entire world.

And yet, last night I realized I don't have to keep holding that pain. I don't have to keep wishing you'd understand or come back or love me the way I loved you. I can choose to let go.

I told you in my message that I release myself from everything I feel toward you: the love, the pain, the hatred, the memories. I release myself from believing you ever saw me as enough. I release myself from thinking we'll ever have Phineas back, or that you'd ever believe me about the losses I went through. I release myself from carrying the weight of your disbelief.

Clark, I loved you more than I ever thought I could love someone. But today, I let myself say goodbye. Not just goodbye to you, but goodbye to who I was with you: the girl who always adjusted, who always waited, who always hoped. That girl deserves rest now.

If one day you find someone new, I hope you love her better than you loved me. I hope you don't raise your voice at her the way you did with me. I hope you give her the clarity and commitment you never gave me. I hope, if she's ever in pain, you choose to see her instead of hiding in your own.

And if you ever think of me, I hope it's with the realization of what you lost: someone who loved you fully, even when it broke her.

Goodbye, Clark. This time, I mean it.

Always,
Alyssa (Phineas, Arlo, Fifi, and Mang)

Last updated on:2025-08-26T12:55:03+05:30