Dear Temperance

I’ve been going back through pieces of the past, through what I posted, what I said, what I assumed — and it’s clearer to me now than ever before how much I overstepped. I was caught in something bigger than I could manage, emotionally and mentally. But I see now that love — even when genuine — doesn’t excuse crossing boundaries.

You had someone you cared for deeply, and whether I understood it or not, that bond mattered to you. I didn’t respect that enough. My posts, my presence, the way I tried to speak without speaking — it was too much. Too obvious. Too loud. You didn’t owe me a second chance, but you gave me one, and I handled even that poorly. To say that I'm sorry is an understatement.

I think about how you must see me now — if you think about me at all. And what haunts me most is the idea that you might only see the worst of me. Because the best of me — the part that listened, admired you, respected your mind, and wanted to support your healing — that part was real too. I wish it had been stronger than the chaos.

This isn’t a request for you to return. It’s not a plan to wedge my way back into your life. It’s just me, owning what I couldn’t see at the time. If there’s ever a time when hearing from me doesn’t hurt, I’d love the chance to talk again. But I’ll let that be your decision — entirely and completely.

Until then, I’m learning. Healing. Honoring who you were to me. And quietly holding gratitude for the way you made me feel seen, even for a little while. I hope that you find what I've finally determined is actually the most magnetic force in the universe: peace.