The Goodbye that has to be said - From heartache to healing

A Goodbye That Had to Be Said

From Heartache to healing

by Sha’Riel

Goodbye soul I loved

Not the sweet kind.

Not the kind where we wish each other well and smile across the ache.

This is the kind of goodbye that has weight in it.

Truth in it.

Fire in it.

Because I gave.

I opened.

I waited.

I held my breath for moments that never arrived, for softness that never stayed.

You were like a short summer rain—sudden, beautiful in the moment, but shallow.

You kissed the surface of me just long enough to stir the dust and leave behind a layer of mud.

Not depth.

Not sustenance.

Just the mess of unmet potential.

And I wanted to call you names.

To rage.

To scream about how you ignored me, how you saw me but didn’t choose me.

How your investment was never rooted, only scattered—like drops that never sank in.

But more than anger, what I really feel is this:

Done.

I’m done carrying the ache of almost.

Done trying to turn crumbs into a meal.

Done dimming my brilliance for someone who could barely show up for my shadow.

So this is not a letter to beg, or to hurt, or to explain.

This is me reclaiming space.

This is me saying—your absence taught me how to show up for myself.

And in that… maybe you gave me the greatest gift you could.

But let it be known:

I deserved more.

And now?

I choose more.

Goodbye.

May you find your way—

But it will not be through me.

⸻

For Anyone Who’s Loved a Soul Who Didn’t Stay

If you’ve ever poured your heart into someone who only offered you fragments—

If you’ve been left spinning in silence after giving your all—

If you’ve ever felt the ache of being almost chosen,

this is for you.

You are not foolish for loving.

You are not weak for hoping.

You are not broken for still caring.

But you are allowed to let go.

You’re allowed to be angry.

You’re allowed to grieve what could’ve been.

And you’re allowed to say, “I deserve more.”

So I invite you to whisper goodbye to your version of him—

whether it was a man, a moment, or a version of yourself that stayed too long.

Speak it.

Write it.

Rage it if you must.

And then…

choose yourself again.

This goodbye isn’t the end of your love.

It’s the beginning of your return to wholeness.