because we loved – still love – each other.

Vixenia Journals

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I grew up knowing the answers to every question thrown my way. No matter how complex it was, for some reason, I would always have an answer. Whether it was a wild guess or something I had known for a while, I have always known how to express myself.

That is, until they asked me questions about you.

“When will he visit our house?”

“Where is he going to celebrate Christmas?”

…

“Why did you fall apart?”

Suddenly, I would not know what to say.

Sure, deep inside, I knew the answers to these questions, yet I could not find the right words to express my thoughts. I am not one for lying, but at times like this, it feels like it was the only way to escape a situation—a grave we both dug, but only I lay in the coffin.

“When will he visit our house?” Soon, he’s just busy, I imagine.

“Where is he going to celebrate Christmas?” In the province with his family, I hope.

“Why did you break up if you still care for him?” It was what we needed, not what I wanted, but what we needed.

“Do you still miss him?” Maybe just the memories—he is still who I think about to fall asleep.

“Why did you fall apart?” We just fell out of love—not a portion of truth.

I know they mean well. I know I should have just told them the truth. But was it wrong to tell little white lies to keep my peace? Was it wrong to keep my responses short to avoid explaining myself?

Because if I started opening up to people, I would be reliving my reasons. I would be questioning my decisions. Was it wrong of me to walk away when staying hurt me more? Was it wrong to not want a love where I have to constantly question myself?

People say love should be simple. I think so too. Sure, every relationship has its ups and downs, but they never talk about how suffocating love can be when the downs outweigh the ups. For the few times I truthfully answered, “Are you still together?” people always expected something dramatic have happened to lead to us parting ways—a huge fight, a betrayal, or a dramatic final moment. Truthfully, I wished it had happened that way. Maybe then, letting go wouldn’t be as hard as it is now. Maybe it would have been easy.

But the reality is that sometimes, relationships end in quiet moments—moments we do not even realize are already our endings. Relationships can end in silences where conversations used to be between the two of us, not one-sided. They end in routines that started to feel more like obligations rather than affection. They end in “I love yous” that sounded more like echoes of the past than our own present voices.

For the longest time, we struggled to keep it together. We struggled, but we would always choose each other. At the end of every chapter, it was still us. As hard as it is to admit, we are no longer teenagers in love. We are adults, navigating our own paths, getting to know the world.

Maybe that is the consequence of meeting each other young. We were bound to grow individually. Some people are fortunate enough to grow and still stay together, but that’s them. We are us. We may not be together for the next years of our lives, but we embraced our hearts when we both needed it the most. And that is the beauty of a teenage love.

So, was I wrong to write an epilogue for a story that had already passed its climax? Was I wrong to stop using semi-colons for sentences that need to stand on its own?

Was I wrong to leave a situation I no longer wanted for myself?

In all honesty, the hardest part wasn’t leaving—it was accepting. Accepting that we are no longer who we were back then. I admit I struggled to let go because I was so used to holding on. I was so used to daydreaming about our future that I neglected our present. I was so used to reimagining our reality that I mistook it for the truth. I was so used to making us a better version in my head - that who we were became more of a memory than our reality.

No matter how much I wanted to pause with a comma, a period was the only fitting end.

So, when they ask me why we broke up, the answer isn’t filled with anger or hatred. It is filled with love—a love so pure that we will always put each other first.

“Why did you fall apart?” We did not. We acknowledged what we needed. We prioritized ourselves. Because we loved—still love—each other.

And for that, I will always be grateful. After everything that went down, not a portion of my mind hates you. I will forever be grateful for everything we experienced together.

Because it was neither of our faults that we grew up.