Sunday, September 25, 2011

What I Want, What I Miss and What I Regret

I don't know if you read this anymore, my guess would be that you deleted it from your reader when you were doing heart surgery.  I've given up on that stupid stat counter shit anyways, all it is is narcissism.  Anyway, this is what they call a "Do Not Send Letter," in therapy.  I owe us both one.

I miss looking at you, coming home to you after a day spent looking at the dirty and disgusting creatures I interacted with.  I want that back, but I know it is now impossible for I am not that much of a fool.  What I regret the most, however, is all the nights I took that evening with you for granted.  Smoked pot.  Drank beer.  Played video games.  What a waste.  I had everything I needed right in front of me but didn't ever quite realize it. 

I regret that I realized it too late.  I regret that I hurt us both.  I want your forgiveness and I want to forgive myself, but I know both of those are impossible.  I do miss the times you held me close after yet another fuck up and told me that everything would be ok and that you would never leave me.  I regret that I forced you to go back on that promise.  I want you to know that there is only one person to blame here.  We both know that it is I.

I want you to know that I am truly sorry, but I regret that I used that word so many times that you will never believe it from me again.  I miss the days when it meant something to you, when it wasn't just another excuse I was using to cover up for being a fuck up.  Quite honestly, the thing I regret the most is fucking up the best thing I ever had going for me.  I regret hurting you.  I miss the days when it was only love that passed between us.  I regret that I have ended those days.

They tell me in group that I'm not supposed to feel shame or guilt for what happened, I think that is bullshit.  I regret using my illness as an excuse and I regret not realizing its seriousness until it was too late.  I miss the days when I wasn't consumed by this.  I miss you. 

I want to be able to tell you all of these things, but I know I can't.  Like you said when I asked if we could still be friends, "We can't, I need to heal and move on.  So do you."  So I guess this my regret, that I can never tell you how I feel ever again.  I regret that I have to write it by myself in a cold basement in my parent's house at three in the morning.  How can I not feel like a failure?  I just don't understand.  I failed you and me at the same fucking time without ever even realizing it. 

I don't know how much more of this I can take.  I want to come down from this cross that I've nailed my bloody hands to.  There is too much on my hands, but it doesn't feel right, just blaming this on my illness and not taking responsibility for my actions or lack thereof.  I failed you my love and I will always regret that.

Before I stop this torture there is one last thing I want to tell you.  I want to thank you for saving my life.  You may not be in my life anymore, but if it wasn't for you I would be resting in a nice plot of land in Loretto, Kentucky.  I want to thank you for getting me into treatment.  I want to thank you for leaving me.  As much as I hate to say that, you leaving was the wake up call that I needed to get my house in order.  I regret not taking on this pain sooner, I had grown used to it always being there.  I regret not believing you when you told me I was strong enough to beat this.  I regret that only now I realize that.

But most of all, above everything else, I regret breaking your heart.  For that there is no forgiveness.  That is a burden I must carry, for I deserve it.  It is mine now.  I keep it in a little place in my heart and in my head.  Just like the burn on my arm, I cannot forget.  I know I should, but I don't think I ever will.

There will always be a place that you own in my heart, and I regret that it is no longer something you want.  Goodbye my love.

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