Little did I know,
while I was writing my heart out at the treehouse,
as if it were my job,
you were doing the same.

Miles apart,
yet so close in spirit—
thinking, feeling
similar emotions.

Today I came home
from that magical abode
only to discover an envelope full of letters from you—
to me.

I read each one in order,
dated from August 23rd to September 23rd,
at least three times.

They’re heartbreaking.
And yet… something inside me feels strong.
I know I made the right decision—
for myself, for you, for us.

Now you’re the one
feeling the gravity.
So much to sit with,
so deeply to feel,
while better understanding
where you’ve been at
this past year.

I don’t know what to do with anything right now—
your letters,
the pieces of our life brought back,
the quiet nights,
the lull of mornings.

I guess I write.
Maybe this is what you felt all along,
while I was bringing items in,
sending letters,
asking so many questions—
you didn’t know what to do with it all.

Now, that is all reflected back onto me.

Little did I know
that just a week after one of our most intimate days,
you would break my heart
by reaching out to a former flame,
seeking to fill a void,
to receive attention that only temporarily masks
the pain of this heartbreak.

Predictable, yet still painful.

You’ve been curious about other women since October 2024,
gradually losing interest and curiosity
in me,
in us,
in the animals.

I suppose now
it’s your time to explore that curiosity.
I don’t judge you for it.
I’m just surprised it came so soon—
and it hurts.
I thought you were a better man.

You couldn’t even tell me on the phone,
or over FaceTime that weekend.
Instead, you waited until Monday night to send a text—
one that came through while I was at a show
I’d been looking forward to for months.

And now that show
lingers
stained in my memory
by this.

Sure, you were honest,
but I was let down.
I held you on a higher pedestal
than where you chose to stoop.

I keep telling myself not to take it personally.
And yet—it feels so fucking personal.

Little did I know—
we offered our everything,
and yet you held back,
uncertain, afraid, losing curiosity.

When is what we have
ever truly enough,
had we not aligned
in abundance
rather than scarcity?

Little did I know
our threefold kisses would no longer be.
Or that the animals would be so curious
as to why their beds from The Ranch
now lay here in the city—
why Ezra still chooses The Ranch bed
though the other remains.

My horoscope today:
“Stay in the present,
let the past train us for the future,
but do not let it limit you
to repeating old scenarios.”

In Bikram, Isabelle reminds us:
“It’s a beautiful thing to be vulnerable,
to be seen.”

And still, I stand here—
wiser, stronger,
holding space for myself, for you, for the animals,
for what is good and true.

The pain teaches.
The heartbreak fades.
Even in loss, life unfolds in new seasons.

I let it all settle.
I let it all be seen.
I turn toward the next chapter, with hope.
And still, I continue to hold love for you.