• Long Year

    by  • December 12, 2017 • * Safe for Work *, Resolution • 0 Comments

    Hey Dude
    Typing this makes me feel like I can just talk to you like everything is normal. Like it hasn’t been a year. We were only close for a year. I thought it would take that long for me to stop thinking about everything that happened. I’ve thought of contacting you 100 ways, but every-time I figured my involvement in your life at all would just set you back, especially if I told you I didn’t want to reconnect. I think my desire to apologize IS selfish. What isn’t? But I’d love to get those selfish apologies, and the things I never said to you out there. So here we go.

    I’m sorry I hurt you. That’s a good one. I want to defend myself but even if my heart was in the right place. I hurt you and I’m sorry.

    I’m sorry I introduced you to them. I think all the time that I wish I’d been a little more confident, a little less naive. I would have gone alone that night or never gone at all.

    I’m sorry we had sex when you were drunk. I know I asked. I know you said you were ok to consent. I know it was still an upsetting experiance. I should have known better. I know better now.

    I’m sorry that I lied to you. I know you said that was ok too. That you didn’t want to know. But I still feel bad.

    I’m sorry I didn’t leave sooner. I had this fantasy in my head of all of us over our jealousy together and happy and in love. I really want you to know that. I didn’t want to tear us apart. I loved you all.

    I’m sorry I slapped him in the face. I’m sorry about what I said when I did it. I know I already apologized but I kind of didn’t mean it then. I am actually sorry now. Not for slapping him but for doing it in front of you and yelling.

    I’m sorry I let my fear of you liking me get in the way of me being honest with you. About the drinking, about my feelings for him, about my jealousy too.

    I hope you don’t think I hate you. I don’t. I hope you think I’m just an asshole. If you have to think anything about me at all. I would hate it if you still missed me.

    Since we stopped talking some things are really awesome for me and some suck. I have a great job. A great partner. A great dog! An entire apartment. I don’t have nightmares every night anymore. I smoke weed every day though and every time I try and work on that all THIS comes up. So yeah. Selfish. I know.

    I got shocked by a haphazardly plugged in computer cords and I decided electricity was a good metaphor for this pain. It’s not good or evil. It can fuel you or kill you. Depends on what you do with it. It’s a lot of work to turn raw powerlike lightning into something useful. Lightning is also useful, but I’m losing my metaphor. I hope your shit helps you light the whole world. I’m trying to work on my wiring to do the same.

    I know this is normal. To fall out. To have problems. To not be liked. You are probably the only person in the world who could truly understand what I was going through, and even you can’t. We are still separated by our perspective, our fears, I don’t want to get shocked again.

    Maybe some day I’ll know what to say to you if I bump into you at a party. Maybe it will be “howdy” probably it will be a silent wave, but I’ll keep your favorite smokes with me just in case. Maybe we’ll just share one together and not say a goddamn thing.

    The fun-house mirror that sits across from yours and reflects our trauma endlessly

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