Where do I even begin? First of all, I can’t wait to see you in a few months. However, when I think about being face to face with you for the first time in about four or five years, my stomach twists into knots. I imagine you sitting across a table, guarded and quiet. What I wouldn’t give to hear you tell me how you really feel. Whether it’s what I want to hear or not. I hope you don’t decide to back out last minute. I told you that I was going there to visit other people. That definitely holds truth to it, but my main reason is you. I have never found closure. Not even the novel length apologies I’ve sent over the years, breaking free from the relationship I used to punish myself for what I did to you, or finding real fulfilling love has helped me to move past you. The memories and feelings are always there, like a ball and chain, I just drag them behind me wherever I go. I realize that I’ve destroyed your trust in me long ago, and no amount of soul searching, self improvement, or time can undo that amount of damage. I’m not naïve enough to believe in fairy tale romances. I destroyed us. There’s no going back from that. So I’ve since found a perfect love. A perfect love I can give most of myself to, while you, unknowingly, hold a large piece from all the way across the states. I sometimes wonder if karmic retribution is to blame. Without speaking a word for years, I can feel you. I can’t help but feel like we’ve known each other forever, and this is just a sad lifetime for our souls. That thought actually helps me a little because I can then think about how maybe in another lifetime things will be better. Because never talking to you is awful. I miss your wit and sarcasm. I miss how snarky and intelligent you are. It used to be so intimidating to me. And the truth is a lot of what happened had to do with that. Everything was getting so real, and I was scared I couldn’t live up to your expectations. I never felt like I was good enough for you. I got scared and I broke your heart before you could break mine. I was just so stupid. At the time I thought, “Years from now, this won’t even matter. It hurts now, but as time goes on it won’t hurt so bad”. Worst. Self-advice. Ever. And now I’m just desperate to finally move forward. Sure, you may sit across that table from me, and tell me that I’m the worst person you’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting, and you only showed up to see if I’ve gotten fat. Maybe that’s what I need to let go. Or maybe you’ll allow me to question you about how your life is going and what your hopes and dreams for the future are. We can have a friendly conversation, and somehow, mid conversation, I’ll realize that we’ve grown into completely different people, and I no longer have to torture myself. It can go either way, right? I’ve tried using your forgiveness as means to start forgiving myself, and I’m stuck. I’m giving it one last shot before going off the deep end and turning to hypnotherapy. It’s just a mess in my head. A mess of missing, aching, regretful confusion. You owe me nothing, but I need help sorting it out.