What I Never Said, But Should’ve
This one’s been a long time coming.
Not to reopen old wounds or romanticize the past. Not to beg, explain, or rewrite history. This isn’t a flex. It’s not regret, either. It’s recognition. A quiet, grown-man acknowledgment of the ways I showed up—and didn’t—for the women I once called mine.
If you’re one of them—and you’re reading this—know that every word comes from a place of growth, not guilt. A place of gratitude, not grief. This isn’t for closure. It’s for clarity.
To My First
The OG. The original. Sunday school love. I met you when I was eight. You were sweet, funny, loyal—and even then, I knew you were different. Funny enough, your older cousin was my first crush (wonder if she ever got married). But it was you who stayed in my heart.
You spoiled me, honestly. You were my best friend. And your best friend was my best friend. We grew up together. Shared everything—secrets, dreams, heartbreaks. You taught me what it meant to be loved for who I was, not who I might become. It was innocent, but real. And that kind of love lays a foundation.
You were my first mirror. The first person to love me when I didn’t even know who I was yet. Thank you for that.
To the One I Met in College
Damn… damn… damn.
Some stories you don’t need to retell in full to feel their weight. Just know that what we had was messy, wild, and deeply misunderstood. We both came with baggage, and neither of us knew how to unpack it.
Still, you taught me what chaos feels like—and what peace should’ve looked like. Sometimes, the lesson is the relationship.
To the One I Met in 2018
You were electric. That half-shaved hairstyle with the intricate design, that smirk, those eyes—you had a gravitational pull. I couldn’t look away.
You had this calming energy that softened the noise in my head. Within three months, you were living with me, and we were playing house. It felt real. It felt fast. It felt good—until it didn’t.
You saw my trauma before I did. You tried to get me to deal with it. “Amp, try yoga. Try breathing. Therapy, even.” You were handing me tools I didn’t know how to use. And I pushed them away. I didn’t mean to hurt you—I was just hurting myself in the process.
You deserved a man who had already done the work. I gave you a man still trying to understand the blueprint. And when it all came crashing down, I carried the weight like I didn’t see it coming—even though you warned me.
To the One I Met in D.C.
We vibed from the jump. Same playlists. Same grind. Same hunger. You were everything I wanted to be on paper—put together, polished, focused. But deep down, I was a mess in a tailored suit.
You thought I was emotionally intelligent, but I was emotionally evasive. You wanted connection, I gave you performance. You needed presence, I gave you polished routines. On the outside, we looked like a power couple. On the inside, I was still that little boy trying to earn validation with achievements.
If I could go back, I’d stop treating you like a resume bullet point and start treating you like the partner you were willing to be. You didn’t need my perfection—you needed my presence. And I missed that.
To the One Who Loved Me Loudly
You were fire. Unapologetic. You lit up every room you walked into—and I didn’t know how to hold that kind of power without dimming it.
You loved out loud. Publicly. Boldly. And I loved quietly, from the sidelines, unsure of how to receive something so unconditional. Every time you tried to pull me closer, I found a way to backpedal. I tested your love to see if it would break. And eventually, it did.
You were never the problem. You were the proof that I didn’t yet believe I was worthy of that kind of love. And for that, I’m sorry.
To the Girl I Let Walk Away Without Saying a Word
You were patient. Quietly hopeful. You never asked for too much—just for me to meet you where you stood. But I was stuck in my own head, wrapped in work, distractions, and unhealed nonsense.
There was no fight. No goodbye. Just silence that stretched into space. One day, I looked up and you were gone. And I don’t blame you.
You didn’t deserve a ghost. You deserved a grown man. I could say I didn’t realize what I had—but the truth is, I did. I was just too afraid to hold it properly. That’s on me.
To All the Girls I Loved Before…
You taught me more than any book, podcast, or TED Talk ever could.
How to listen. How to sit with uncomfortable feelings. How to love with intention. How to stop using pain as a shield. How to show up even when it’s scary. Each of you left an imprint—some tender, some tough—but all of them valuable.
You didn’t complete me. You reflected me. And I’m better because of that.
I hope you’re living soft, loved, and free. I hope someone is holding you the way I should’ve. Or maybe you’re holding yourself these days. Either way, you deserve peace. Always did.
Final Word
This isn’t a letter to get someone back. This isn’t a pitch. It’s a love letter to growth. A thank you to the women who walked with me—even if only for a chapter. You saw me in moments when I couldn’t see myself. Some of you tried to stay. Some of you had to leave. Either way, you made an impact.
So, to all the girls I loved before:
Thank you. I’m sorry. I remember you.
Always.
#ToAllTheGirls #LoveAndLoss #EmotionalGrowth #MensMentalHealth #RelationshipLessons #LettersToMyExes #HealingThroughHonesty #BreakupReflections #ModernManhood #PersonalGrowthJourney