At this point the only way we would ever talk again is if we happened to run into each other somewhere. I wouldn't be able to talk to you beyond that encounter, because I have regretted opening myself up to hurt time and again, and I cannot (will not) carry that burden ever again.
I would want to tell you about everything I've derived from us, how loving you became the greatest catalyst for change, how every behavioral trait (and manifested action) that cut into us became something to grow out of. How I wanted to become the person that, if I could go back and do it all over again, would be confident that I at least would not contribute to our spiraling dynamic, because even thinking that anything I did gave us less of a chance would be (has been) too much to bear.
And by that I mean that I've become tender but firm, with strong ideas loosely held, capable of dispensing words of affirmation, structuring emotional conversations intellectually, setting boundaries, being clear and explicit, negotiating needs... things I have yet to be appreciated for in the context of a romantic relationship, but which I know to be foundational skills for the type of dynamic and long-lasting relationship that I want.
I no longer yell, or hide, or punish, or shut down. I wish you were clear enough with yourself that you could see this and know. That you would not be clouded by your mental images of me (or past me), or your own built-up inadequacies, shame, guilt, self-hatred. I do not mean to elicit any emotions on your part by revealing who I am now. It is not in contrast to who you are, were, or anything else. And I am not looking for any credit, applause, or congratulations.
It's just... who I am now. A testament to how much I loved you.
And I want this post-traumatic growth for you not because it's time for you to catch up, or absolve yourself, but because you deserve to be happy. I have that for me. And I want that for you.