I’ve put you through hell.
I’ve spent all this time worrying about my feelings, and then when I said stupid things, I felt bad about hurting your girlfriend’s feelings, but I never thought about your feelings. I pinned us as the bad guys. I was the girl that got with her friend’s boyfriend, and you were the guy that cheated on his girlfriend. I apologised to her because she was the wronged one. I worried about how I felt because, well, I was feeling it. But you. I didn’t think about you so much. I blamed you. I made you out to be some sort of villain. I wrote an angry letter on here about you, and that would have been fine if I hadn’t then decided to publish it on twitter. I made you read those awful things I said. You shouldn’t have had to read that. At the time I only really felt bad because I’d made her read it. She shouldn’t have had to see that. She shouldn’t have had to read about my anger towards you, because I was the one who wronged her and fell for her boyfriend and kissed him and never let her hear the end of it because of my stupid guilt and confusion and feelings. It wasn’t my place to say those things publicly, and I felt so awful for what I put her through, because I never wanted to upset her.
But I wanted to upset you. I wanted you to feel bad about what you put me through. I wanted you to see just what you’d done to me.
Now, however, I feel bad. I don’t just feel bad that in trying to upset you, I also upset her. I feel bad that I wanted to hurt you in the first place. You don’t deserve that. You were there for me when I needed you the most. You hugged me and told me it would be alright. Even when she was sick to death of me and wanted me gone, you kept talking to me and made sure I wasn’t alone. I owe so much to you. I don’t doubt that it’s because of you that your girlfriend still speaks to me. I know that it took a lot for her to continue to be my friend, and I owe her everything for that, but I know that she most likely had some encouragement from you.
You may have hurt me, but I exaggerated in that letter. You may have angered me, and I don’t pretend that it doesn’t still hurt every now and then. I’m lonely, and you’re the last man that seemed to show any real interest me, and I often miss the way we were in those moments. But it was wrong. I knew that then and I know it now.
I always knew we could never be together. I knew that even if things ended between you and her, God forbid, I still wouldn’t feel right being with you. But I let myself enjoy those moments too much. I got too close. I was naive and childish: I still am, but at least I can recognise that it wasn’t your fault.
At first I blamed myself. I beat myself up for being an awful person, and I think part of me will always carry that guilt inside me – I never was very good at letting go. Then I blamed you. I made you out to be some sort of villain, and that must have made you feel awful. Now I guess I realise that it was what it was. I can be lonely and bitter and miss it as much as like, but it’s not going to change anything. She still wants to be with you and she still wants to be my friend, and she is a wonderful person for that.
So, I guess I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry to her for forgetting that she would be hurt by things I said about us, and I’m sorry to you for making you feel guilty.
I have so much love and gratitude for you both, and I already miss you like crazy. I know you both peruse this website occasionally, and if you read this, I hope you know just how much I appreciate your very existence.
Here’s hoping I’ll find someone on the other side of the Atlantic who can rescue me at 2am.
All my love,