A Letter 4 You

I reminisce over the past few days, debating with myself wether I did or said the right things. Or wether I did enough at all. Or too much. I can’t call it. Either way I find myself in the same dark space. Here, staring up into nothingness, lost in so many distant, irrelevant, possibilities. Thinking of what would be different right now if I wasn’t so… myself. What I am sure of is this isn’t what I wanted. I know I sounded so sure last night but you know… bravado. An incredible false bravado when it comes to you. I am weak for you. I told you so. Recently I was told that if I keep depriving myself of opportunities to be happy I’ll eventually run out. And I’ll be alone. I believe it , and I am well aware I sabotage myself, especially in apparently healthy emotional situations, out of pure fear. I won’t allow myself to be loved. I don’t trust it. I don’t trust myself therefore how can I trust anyone else. 

This is not living, everyone else sees the contrary. But perception is indeed everything and I hide very well. But you know. I find myself not present in this life now. It sound dramatic, but I miss you. I miss your presence. You’re special. Your nature itself does something for me nobody has done. No conversation is necessary, but when we do talk it was good conversation. Using the word was is tearing me apart right now. I “want” it to be you. I have huge walls up from a life before you as well as you. But it was clear from the beginning I metaphorically walked you past a minefield, over a moat, through my walls and attempted to show you inside but something changed. Fear. Wether it was mutual on account of how quickly everything escalated or if was because of something else. We have no communication so I don’t know. All I feel is regret. 

I saw you for the first time flawed, just like me and that’s when I knew. Crying in my chest. On me and in me.* I sabotaged us when we were beautiful, though you inspired me to write about the hurt as opposed to the joys of having you around. I’ve had both sides of the spectrum. I guess I did get what I wanted.

In the sickest way, I hope you feel as I do completely floored. 

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