Dear Alec (CoLS spoilers)

Dear Alexander Lightwood...

     Here I am, after leaving you. Sitting on my couch, Chairman Meow on one side, this piece of paper on the other. I haven't shed a tear. I think the reality is still trying to set in. But, at the same time, I've been thinking about doing this for so long...maybe my mind has adjusted already.

     Listen. I do love you. Don't think for a second that what we had was fake. You're going to be imprinted into my mind just like all the other amazing people I've met in the past. Even more so, you're much more special. But that's the way my life goes. Every new generation that comes along, I build my relationships in the sand at the edge of the ocean...and, like clockwork, the tide comes up and wipes it all away, clearing it out. And I can't stop it, it's out of my control. It's kind of a downfall of being immortal.

     But it's what I have to learn to live with. And I couldn't stand sitting back and watching you be so confused. Watching you scramble and worry about getting old while I stay the same. I could tell you were fretting, chickpea, and you shouldn't live your precious lifespan constantly obsessed with the natural aging process. It's not a good way to live.

     And if you were going to stoop so low with your fear as to go running off to Camille for answers, well, I knew I had to put a stop to it. You have your family to worry about, your Shadowhunters. You can't spend all your time wrapped up in a warlock, a Downworlder.

     So that's why I let you go. Not because I'm angry with you, not because I've stopped loving you. Because I love you too much. I love you too much to let you go feeling like your life is minuscule. I love you too much to let you go through life constantly thinking about who I've been with in the past, and who I'll find in the future. I let you go with the hopes you'll find someone who can love you as much as I've loved you, who can give you what you deserve...someone to grow old with.

     I know you don't see that right now. I know you're furious with me and probably crying, and pulling threads out of the sleeves of that black hoodie you wear far too often, like you always do when you're anxious. I know you hate my guts. You hate my guts but you want nothing but to see my face again. I can't let you do that. I won't go near you again, I promise. That's the most I can do for you.

     Please move on, Alexander. Teach someone else about that heart that's inside of you. Teach someone else how it feels to have Alexander Lightwood at their side. They're going to be so lucky.

     Sincerely, Magnus Bane.