You weren’t just an affair—
you were the child inside me
screaming,
“I want to live.”

And how did she show it?
By falling in love with you.

That’s why,
when I was with you,
something still felt incomplete.

Because it wasn’t you.
It was me.

Unfortunately—
it was me.

Yes—
you have your issues.
You made mistakes.
And so did I.

I don’t want this
to be the speech
of an emotional dependent
who only blames herself
and forgets
that a relationship
is built by two people.

From now on,
every “i” will have its dot,
and every accent
will be marked—

as we write
our story
again.

You were a mirror
I needed to see myself clearly.

Yes, you had your part in the story.
Whether you came from heaven
or from hell—
it’s all right.
Your purpose was fulfilled.

I didn’t choose
to marry the wrong man.
I let myself
live the marriage
in the wrong way—
unconsciously.

By showing me
I deserved more,
you weren’t necessarily saying
he was wrong for me—
but that I had been
treating myself wrong
all along.

I feel I’ve hurt many people.
All of them,
with trembling voices,
show me
I might be on the wrong path.

But as my friend said—
everyone has their own journey.

Maybe those I’ve despised
are the ones I need to make peace with.
And maybe those
who stood by my side
are the ones I’ll have to hurt.

Because it’s not about them—
it’s about me.

Not depending on anyone
but myself,
my opinion,
my belief
in what I know
to be right.

Will this work out?

You removed my face scan
from the building entrance.
I had to say
I was a visitor
in my own home.

But maybe this
isn’t my home anymore.

Maybe I fooled myself
into believing
God would make all things new
again—
if it were His will.

Now I see why
I couldn’t speak about you
in therapy.

I knew you were
a big part of what happened,
but I simply couldn’t
speak of you directly—
not the way I wanted to.

I think my mind,
smarter than I ever imagined,
was protecting me
from a truth
I wasn’t ready to hold yet.

But the Universe—
God—
this Force,
is guiding me
to see the truth,
to give me clarity.

If I had known before
what I know today,
maybe I would have ended my life.
Maybe I wouldn’t have endured.

But in just one month,
I’ve had a surge of maturity
that is keeping me going.

Once again,
I need to rewrite this story—
and I have to take responsibility for it.

You came back into my life
to show me
so many things were wrong
in my marriage,
and that I needed to align
with myself.

You came to show me
that I deserve more—
and not necessarily
that I have to be with you,
but that I have to love
differently.

I fell in love
with the idea of you—
with the fantasy of the past,
with our story
that never truly worked.

I feel ashamed to admit it,
because I ended my marriage
for you.
But I shouldn’t have.

Now I want to say
I ended it for me—
maybe I just don’t want
to retell this story
because the truth
throws me into despair.

I’m sorry.

You’ve helped me so much,
letting me stay at your place—
but I’m truly sorry.

Maybe
the red heart
will never come.