Dear Claudia,
You'll never read this; even if you do, you won't recognize yourself. But I just wanted you to know that I've forgiven you. Or maybe I've forgiven myself enough to let you go. I don't know.
That "boys don't cry" line is crap: I leaked plenty of tears for you, alone at night when I couldn't bury the rancor in the noise of the world. But time heals all wounds, isn't that what they say? I moved on, you moved on, that's what people do. They move, because the world isn't a static place. It's a sink or swim place, and I'm too stubborn to sink. So are you, I knew that when I met you. I knew it, somewhere somehow, but I must have forgotten it for a while. Forgive me for worrying, I should never have doubted.
I should never have doubted, that's the weak way of saying that I realize belatedly what I did to you, smothering you like that. You were my prize fighter inferno, and had I opened my eyes to see it, we could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble.
No point in agonizing over it now. You were strong with me, you were strong by yourself, and you were strong with the next guy to come along. You will always be strong, Claudia, don't you ever forget that. Don't let anyone else forget it, either.
Yours,
me