Yené Alengntaye
6 min readApr 18, 2020

For the record… I still choose him. If it were my choice, I’d choose him over and over and over and over again. Over again — redundant, I know. I’m making my point. Maybe I’m leaving this here because I’ve given up hope. Hope that he’ll ever choose me again. Hope that God’s chosen him for me. And well, why let a well-composed prose go to waste. If he won’t ask (for it and/or me) then I’ll share it with the world (not that anyone actually reads this). Here goes….

“I’m choosing my words carefully because I’m afraid these may be my last to him. And if they are, every word holds so much weight. I hope he knows I mean all of it. I hope he knows all he means to me.

I know he saw the news about Kawhi Leonard. As stupid as it is somehow I convinced myself that if Kawhi chose the Lakers, then he would choose a lifetime with me. That it would give him hope. I guess we all have different 4-year contracts now. God knows what 4 years from now will look like.

I’ve always had a hard time letting go of things once I’ve fallen in love with them. Maybe to some extent, we all do, but for me, it seems chronic. That being said, I know for a fact that I’ve never had a tougher time letting go of anything or anyone as I’ve had when trying to let go of him.

I think I mask the pain fairly well. Being a leader means being up even when you’re down. If I’m being honest, I’m down a lot. I’ve never felt a loss like this. It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me — said all at once.

He was far from perfect. In fact, he might have been more flawed than a lot of guys I’ve dated. But I loved all of his “imperfections” because he wasn’t settled in them. He wanted to be better. Not for me — frankly, I couldn’t love him anymore if I tried. But for himself. His desire for improvement was infectious. He inspired me to be better. What’s not to love. I swore he was perfect for me. And I for him.

I’m still in that phase where everything kind of reminds me of us, of what we used to be. Grocery shopping. Seeing couples, how some interlock fingers instead of cupping their hands the way we used to do. Seeing couples that engage in a lot of PDA and just knowing they must be in a long-distance relationship because that was us too. Rest stops. There are still a lot of songs I can’t handle listening to...

We gave this love our all and I’ve never regretted going all-in with him. And I never will. Loving him was brave and I’m proud of myself for never holding back. Every relationship prior to this one had left me worse off. I’m better because I knew him. I’m better for having known a love like this. So even if I never hear from him again, I’m grateful for all of it. Every long night, every short breath, every… little thing — they weren’t so little.

He always tried to push me in the direction of my goals, but the trouble was I never wanted to leave his side… so naturally I tried to pull him along. I was in denial. I wanted to believe we were on the same path. That we were still walking that labyrinth together. But we weren’t. It was my labyrinth to walk, he was just a visitor. The best thing he could have done was to tell me he didn’t want to come with. He freed me. Though I’m absolutely terrified to live without him, I’m thankful. He was my miracle. There was no other way.

The reason for the “grace period” was to give us time to start the grieving process properly and begin healing and letting God give us direction as we moved forward in life. In my mind, it was so that there would be a chance of us one day being able to at least have a real friendship… and even/maybe find a way back to each other. It has never been my intention to rid him from my life or forget about him. I want to see him happy, even if it’s not with me. But as the days go on, and the silence remains unbroken… I’m starting to believe it won’t be with me. At all. I wonder often, does he hold me in his heart the way I hold him in mine... the silence echoes a loud no. Maybe I have no right to see him happy. Or sad, or excited, or hurt, or angry, or any other emotion…

I recorded a video on the 31st day of us not speaking… but I swore I’d only send it to him if he reached out to me first. I’m not upset that he didn’t. But my assumption was that if he reached out first that meant he wanted to see me, and I wanted to be prepared for that. You know, just in case. So I had a pre-response for my pre-sumption. Why? I always want to win him over… who knows, maybe subconsciously that’s what I’m trying to do even now. Guess I’m always thinking one too many steps ahead of where we actually are. It’s problematic, I know. God’s still working on me.

You should hear the conversation I had with God when I told Him I wanted to send this letter. Why? “For closure..?” You got closure. More closure than anyone ever gets in a breakup. “True… Okay, truth is I want him to know I still want him..” …You can’t expect to let go if you’re not willing to set him free first… Do not be selfish with my beloved child.

God had a few more sharp words for me but I think you get the gist. He wants us to understand why we are doing everything we’re doing.

When I met the business team, I discovered my purpose in life was to set captives free. But when I met him, I’m afraid I made him feel caged up. Oh, the irony. You reap what you sow. I recently read a fortune cookie that said — “You value freedom — grant it to others.” If that wasn’t a direct shot…

I hope he truly feels free now. To dream. To love. To dance. To live life to his fullest.

As for me, some nights hurt no matter what I do, but those nights are becoming few and far between. I’m walking with God, and there’s no better place for me to be.

Life has stripped me of all my pride and all my ego. Self-preservation has exited stage left. Throughout my life, I have been very selfish. I’ve sought relationships only to fulfill my needs and wants. My selfish desires. It was so covert that I managed to fool even myself. If he hadn’t let me go so lovingly, I never would have gotten to a place where I could allow God to heal me and restore my soul.

Some say the end is in the beginning. Others say every ending is a new beginning…

But our ending just makes me go back to our beginning… the very beginning. Does he remember?


For some reason, the words mean more to me now than ever before. I still love him. And I still want him. But maybe one day I won’t fall to pieces at the sound of his name.

One last thing… Before I let go, I heard this somewhere and thought, this is it — exactly.

“Do you think I can have one more kiss? I’ll find closure on your lips, and then I’ll go. Maybe also one more breakfast, one more lunch, and one more dinner. I’ll be full and happy and we can part. But in between meals, maybe we can lie in bed one more time. One more prolonged moment where time suspends indefinitely as I rest my head on your chest. My hope is if we add up the “one more’s” they will equal a lifetime and I’ll never have to get to the part where I let you go. But that’s not real, is it? There are no more one mores. I met you when everything was new and exciting, and the possibilities of the world seem endless. And they still are… for you, for me, but not for us. Somewhere between then and now, here and there, I guess we didn’t just grow apart, we grew up. When something breaks, if the pieces are large enough, you can fix it. Unfortunately, sometimes things don’t break, they shatter. But when you let the light in, shattered glass will glitter. And in those moments when the pieces of what we were catch the sun, I’ll remember just how beautiful it was. Just how beautiful it’ll always be. Because it was US. And we were magic. Forever.”

The end.