Dear Clark

Dear Clark,

It is August 27 today, and I am writing to you with a heart that feels strangely lighter than before. Two days ago, I finally told you everything I had been holding inside: every truth, every wound, every love, every resentment. And now, as I sit here, I realize that speaking those words freed me in a way I didn't expect.

For the first time in weeks, I can breathe. I don't know what you felt when you read my words. I don't know if they touched you, or if you brushed them away. Maybe you felt anger, maybe sadness, maybe nothing at all. But for me, those words mattered because they were the truth. They were my truth. And after carrying that truth silently for so long, I finally set it down.

Yet here I am, Clark, still loving you. Even as I let go, even as I tell myself I must move on, there is a piece of me that still beats in your direction. It is softer now, not as desperate as before, but it is real. And maybe that is the paradox of love, that even when we know it cannot stay, it still lingers like a fragrance in the air, like a shadow in the corner of the room.

I think about us often. About how deeply I gave myself, and how easily you seemed to pull away. About how much I wanted to fight for us, and how quickly you erased me from your spaces, blocking me, unfollowing, disconnecting from our apps, even from Arlo. Each of those cuts felt like a small death, like losing us all over again.

But even then, I loved you. Even now, I love you.

I don't know if you ever think of me. I don't know if my name still crosses your mind when you wake up, or when you pass by places we once spoke of, or when you lie in bed at night. Maybe you've buried me completely. Maybe you've convinced yourself that forgetting is easier.

But if you do think of me, even for a second, I hope you remember that I loved you with everything I had. That even when it hurt, even when I doubted myself, I kept choosing you. I hope you remember that I gave you not just my heart, but the tenderest parts of me, the parts I never shared with anyone else.

And I hope, one day, when the noise of life settles and you look back, you will see me not as a mistake, not as a burden, but as someone who truly loved you.

Today, Clark, I am learning to set myself free. That doesn't mean I stop loving you overnight. It doesn't mean I erase you the way you erased me. It only means I choose to carry this love differently, less like a wound, more like a memory.

You were my first in so many ways, my everything in so many days, and even as I try to let you go, I know that you will always be part of me.

So here I am, lighter yet still tethered, freer yet still aching, loving yet letting go.

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

Last updated on:2025-08-27T23:58:03+05:30