Closure letter Dun


Dear Dun,


I don't even know if you’ll ever read this—but this letter isn’t for you anymore. It’s for *me*. Because I’ve carried enough silence, enough pain, and enough confusion.


When we met, I was vulnerable. I had just come from a heartbreak, and I was still learning how to stand again. I gave you my trust, my time, my care, and even my money when you were at your lowest—not because I was desperate, but because that’s the kind of person I am. Loving. Loyal. Hopeful.


And you took that… and broke it.


You lied to me. You cheated. You played games with my heart while pretending to love me. You moved from one girl to another like it meant nothing, and yet you kept me around—just enough to use me, but never enough to choose me.


I asked for honesty, you gave me excuses.

I asked for love, you gave me confusion.

I asked for respect, you gave me silence.

I asked for commitment, and you gave it to someone else.


You blocked me. Ignored my messages. Took my money and never paid me back. But the worst part isn’t even the 6,000 shillings—it’s the peace of mind you stole. It’s the nights I spent wondering if I wasn’t enough. It’s the way you made me question my worth.


But not anymore.


You no longer get to occupy space in my mind or heart. I may not get closure from you, but I’m giving it to *myself*. I forgive myself for staying too long. For believing your words over your actions. For hoping you’d change. But I don’t forgive what you did—not now, maybe not ever. And that’s okay. Because healing isn’t about pretending it didn’t hurt—it’s about walking away anyway.


I’m reclaiming my power. I’m choosing peace. I’m choosing *me*.


Goodbye, Dun.


Yours lovely 

Carol Nyambura Mwonjoria 

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