This is the fifth attempt at writing this letter. As you can probably tell I’ve completely given up trying to make it neat. Or even understandable. It’s impossible, there’s nothing to say, and yet this is everything. All I’ll ever say to you. And I’m supposed to fit it in a letter.

I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. It was never supposed to get this far. I want you to know that. I didn’t intend for you to find out like this. But I guess it’s too late. Even as I write this, my bags are being packed. My whole life here, put away in boxes.

I’ll miss you all. And I’m sorry for all the promises I’m breaking by leaving now. You all know the one I mean.

She’s sitting behind me right now. Curled into the arm of our sofa, asleep. She’s tired all the time now. She says it’s the baby, carrying a whole new life tired you. I guess I’ll never know. I thought I’d be a mother. I thought it would be that simple. But I’m naive. I love her. Truly. Her and the baby. We were going to be mothers. A family. I want you to know I’m not running from that. I made my peace with all that and I swear if I had any other choice I’d never leave her. Not now and not ever.

We are built to love. It’s biological. And not just for reproduction. If it wasn’t for our connection, for our bond to each other we never would have survived. I don’t regret meeting you all. And I don’t regret falling for her. Or any of you. And I want you to continue to live in the beautiful way you do, because I hope that one day I can drag myself back here, to my haven. But don’t wait for me. I don’t expect your forgiveness for this.

Goodbye, and thank you. For all you’ve done for me, and for welcoming me home after all this time,

Love

Alina