She wasn't one of a kind. She cried and screamed and laughed and had her own demons to fight. She wasn't perfect to many, but with her I learned that perfection isn't about being flawless. Perfection is an empty space inside us all that some can fit in and some can't. She fit in my empty space, at least at the time. She got me feeling full and warm inside, protected and, mainly, she made me feel loved.
Now when I think of what we had, what I craved so much to understand why was suddenly gone, I understand that it wasn't just her who changed, but also my empty space. She couldn't fit in, neither could I.
I was so mad. I cried and hated her and myself and the rest of the world, but now that all the anger and hurt faded away, I can't bring myself regret it: the breakup, the different paths we took and how I missed her presence and warmth.
The fact is that sometimes we no longer can fit empty spaces like we used to, and that's okay. People change, and so do their empty spaces. Sometimes they're too small, or too big, of just not your shape. Forcing yourself inside a place you can't fit in or allowing someone to forcefully fit inside your space may hurt far more than letting go.
So we did let go, and although it hurt, it was the best for us. We keep growing and changing, perfect to many, imperfect to many. But growing, nevertheless.