Dear Luvhon,

I’m writing this late at night, with my eyes hurting, trying to put into words what I’m feeling.

This past year — and especially the last couple of months — has been gruelling on my heart, on my mind, and most of all, on my soul.

I’ve tried everything under the tree. I’ve tried writing. I’ve tried meditating. I’ve tried reading. I’ve tried talking myself out of situations. These last months have been an absolute blur. Maybe I wasn’t present, or maybe I tried too hard to be present but just couldn’t make myself come back.

And because of that, directly or indirectly, I’ve been harsh on you sometimes. In trying to explain what’s wrong, I ended up creating things that should never have touched you. It’s my own suffering, and I want to carry it on my own. I’ve always tried to protect you from everything—everything that happens in me, around me. And I will continue to do so.

Know this, my love: some pieces of my soul are broken into so many fragments that it might take a lifetime to put them back together. My brain is exhausted. My heart is tired. I only have an ounce of hope left in me. I really want to hold on, but it’s getting harder every day, every hour, every minute to keep myself afloat.

I love you. Maybe I’m not able to do things for you right now. Maybe I’m not able to love you the way you want or the way you deserve. Maybe I’m not doing enough. But I love you.

That is the only certainty. I love you more than anything else in this world. You don’t know how many times I’ve stopped myself from losing my all because of you. I don’t know for how much longer I can hold everything together, but it is my duty to tell you that I love you, and I’m sorry.