You’ve done the impossible, it seems. You’ve learned how to say the words “I’m sorry.” It’s four years too late, but you did it nonetheless.
What was it that finally made you realize you needed to apologize for the mess you made out of my life? Was it losing me? Or was it the loneliness you were left with when I was gone?
I want so badly to believe you woke up and realized your life was empty without me. The me that always had a kiss ready for you and a gentle hand on your back. The me that called you “babe” and always tried to make you laugh, even though you told me my puns were stupid. The me that took care of you when your fever spiked and you were hallucinating, and you never even said thank you. The me that loved to sing in the car until you told me the radio sounded better. The me that always offered to bring home food for dinner but you had inevitably already eaten without me. The me that always offered to join in your favorite activities, but always ended up doing mine alone because they didn’t interest you.
The me that asked you to hold my hand, just once — but you couldn’t be bothered. The me that felt so alone and guilty when you went cold and silent, as if it were my fault you screwed everything up. The me that always broke that silence and tried — desperately tried — to talk it out so your anger and coldness and blame made some kind of sense in my head. The me that took the brunt of your pain and your fear, carrying the burden around like it were my own. The me that felt she was losing her mind, that she must be doing something wrong, that this must somehow be normal for people in love.
And the me that finally walked away when I realized it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t love. And I wasn’t to blame.
That’s one small victory I can claim. I walked away. I had the strength and courage to face an unknown future, and more importantly, the self-control to not go back. Even when you begged, cajoled, guilted, isolated, and finally asked for forgiveness of me, I didn’t give in.
Do you know what that took for me to do that? Do you know how scared I am of that unknown future? Do you know how much I don’t want to be alone any more, and how easy it would be for me to betray myself by letting you back into my life?
Do you know — really know — why I’m so angry at you?
And do you know how much I need to forgive you? I’m tired of this anger — so unbelievably tired. It’s all I feel. I can’t escape it. It follows me day in and day out. And I hate being angry. I hate being angry at someone. I hate being angry at you.
Because I loved you. More than anyone I’ve ever loved before. More than I knew was possible. And you burned it to the ground. You made a single choice and it destroyed everything. Let me repeat — you made a choice…and my future crumbled before my eyes.
And somehow, I’m the one who has to forgive. I’m the one who has to move on. I’m the one that has to reinvent her life again.
So I will keep trying to find a way to believe you are what you say — a different person. I hope that you find your way. I hope this new light keeps guiding you. I really do hope the absolute best for you.
Most importantly, I hope I find a way to truly forgive you. Not for you — that’s important. I’ll forgive you, but I’ll do it for myself. Because I don’t need to carry this heaviness around with me anymore. I’m free and I’m whole again. I did the hardest part and I made it to the other side, as fragile as I may still feel.
The question is, how will you ever forgive yourself for losing me?
