Every heartbreak has a story. “Letter to My Ex” invites you into the reflective hearts of people who’ve loved, lost, and grown—offering gentle truths, bold lessons, and encouragement for anyone navigating the aftermath of a relationship. These weekly letters are full of grace and grit, showing how endings shape wisdom and how the past still holds power to teach. From understanding closure to embracing self-love, each piece is a tribute to growth through love, loss, and lived experience.
Esther Kamau (Not her real name) pens this week’s heartfelt Letter to My Ex.
Dear Alex,
When I first saw you on campus, you were just a crush, a fleeting fascination. I’d spot you in the corridors, matching sneakers with your t-shirt, looking effortlessly put together.
My friends would nudge me, whispering, “Look, there he is,” and I’d shyly glance your way. But I never dared to speak to you. You felt like someone out of my league, the kind of man I thought would never look my way.
Years later, fate decided otherwise.
I had already graduated and moved to another county for my internship. By then, you were just a faded memory of a campus crush. But life has its way of circling back. Through a mutual friend, let’s call him John, I saw you again at an event.
You were still striking, but this time, something shifted. We talked. We actually held a conversation. For the first time, I saw you not just as the campus crush, but as a person.
The event ended, you went back to the city, and I thought that would be it. But before leaving, you asked for my number. And from that day, my phone never rested. Morning greetings, check-ins during work, evening calls, even midday surprises, you showed up exactly in the way I had always dreamed of.
We spoke about everything: politics, love, the economy, and our dreams. And one day, you confessed; you had also crushed on me back on campus. My heart skipped. Were we both silently crushing on each other all those years? I couldn’t believe it. For once, I felt chosen.
When you told me you loved me, I believed it. I let myself float in the butterflies. After all, I had been single for over a year, and here was someone who not only said the words but also proved them with consistency and reassurance. It felt like my love language was finally being spoken.
So when my internship ended and I returned to the city, meeting you the very next day felt inevitable. And when you asked me to be your girlfriend, how could I say no?
For a brief moment, I was in love with the idea of us. I loved being in a relationship again, going on dates, laughing with you, and feeling your kisses. But deep down, I knew something was off.
It didn’t even last two months.
I realised I wasn’t in love with you. I was in love with the treatment, the calls, the texts, the reassurance. I craved communication, and you gave me that. But then it began to feel suffocating. Ten missed calls if I didn’t pick up. “I love you”, said over and over until the words lost all meaning. My friends said it was too much. At first, I defended you. Later, I couldn’t anymore.
You weren’t obsessed, but it felt that way to me. And I began to resent it. The same words that once thrilled me became noise. The same gestures that once made me blush felt like burdens. And instead of facing you with honesty, I took the coward’s way out.
I ignored your calls. I stopped replying. I let silence speak where my words should have. And eventually, I blocked you.
You tried. You sent me voice notes, your voice breaking, crying, begging me to explain. But I never did. I ran from the conversation I owed you. I hurt you. And the truth is, I wasn’t brave enough to face your heartbreak, because it meant admitting my own weakness.
So here I am, writing this letter you may never read.
Alex, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I ended things, not with honesty, but with avoidance. You didn’t deserve to be shut out without closure. You gave me love, and I gave you silence. You gave me consistency, and I gave you confusion. I should have sat across from you and said, “This isn’t working.” Instead, I chose the easy way out, and in doing so, I broke something precious.
I hope time has healed the wound I left. I hope you’ve found someone who cherishes your love, someone who sees your consistency not as obsession, but as devotion. Someone who deserves the heart you gave so freely.
As for me, I’ve learned that love cannot be built on treatment alone; it must be rooted in compatibility, respect, and truth. I didn’t give you that. For that, I’ll always carry regret.
Goodbye, Alex.
I hope you found the love I couldn’t give. - Esther, your ex
Everyone has a story about love, loss, or heartbreak worth sharing. If you’ve ever wanted to say the things you couldn’t—apologies, closure, gratitude, or truths—to someone from your past, we invite you to write to us. Your real, heartfelt letter might offer healing or understanding to someone else who has been through something similar. You may remain anonymous if you prefer, but your words matter. We don’t pay contributors, but we believe in the power of shared experiences and emotional honesty. Join us in creating a collection of letters that explore love, lessons, and letting go. Be part of this movement.
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