To Paul,

 

I know that you will never receive this letter, because I never intend to send it. In a way, I am writing for myself—to tell myself that this is me letting you go.

 

You came into my life out of nowhere.

I always think to myself—that the stars have aligned, or that the universe nudged us together in a direction. Because who could have thought that an injury to your arm would cause you to move all the way from Sydney to Melbourne and land a job here at Michelin?

 

It’s funny how the universe works sometimes, eh?

 

But I’m glad that things worked out this way, because I got to meet you—and the impact you made on my life, whether you know it or not.

 

This is me letting you go—not because I hate you, but because you are straight.

And I told myself, from the very beginning, that whatever happens, I would not fall for you.

Because a gay man falling for a straight guy never ends well.

 

But somewhere along the way,

it happened.

Very slowly—

then all at once.

 

And now, you’re not around anymore.

And I’m left picking up the pieces, here and there. Your presence—you’re not here, but your presence lingers.

Sometimes I can’t breathe, and I go for a walk.

And everyone’s wondering where I am, but I don’t care. I just need some air.

 

This is me letting you go.

 

Of all the times I carried you—tried to save you from yourself—

but I’ve realized now that you don’t really need saving, do you?

 

Because you’re content with the life that you’ve built.

A life of comfort, of survival, of keeping the world at arm’s length.

Because it feels safer to remain invisible—

because to be seen is to be vulnerable.

And that’s not who you are.

 

And I’ve learned to accept that.

As hard as it may be for me—

because I want you to know that you matter in this world.

You made an impact on the lives of people around you, even if you don’t know it.

 

You made me feel safe.

Like I could be courageous, do anything with my life—because having you around made me feel like you had my back.

 

And now that you’re not here, it makes me feel like I have to take this journey on my own.

And that feels lonely.

 

But I know that you’re still there, somewhere in the back of my mind,

telling me to be brave,

telling me to keep going.

 

And finally,

this is me letting you go—because I don’t want to hold onto the past anymore.

Because our lives are here now, in the present.

 

I’ll always have your number.

And we can always catch up when the time is right.

I don’t get to see you every day at work anymore—but you will always be a part of my life.

 

You let me into your life when you wouldn’t let most people in.

So I must have done something right.

And I value that.

I treasure that.

 

So this is me letting you go—

and letting you know

that it is goodbye for now,

but not forever.