Reader. Writer. Romantic.

My Apology

I never knew true loneliness until I had a companion, until I met you. Every night, every day I depended on our conversations. I never knew how important you were to me until I lost you. Though we were never that close and never spoke as much as we had in the last two weeks, I felt that I could trust you. There were things we talked about, things I told you that I’ve never told another person. Maybe I’m a fool for having trusted you, but I always believed that I should trust until my faith in you was disproven.

Last night we exchanged some heated words. Not in anger. But in fear. I was afraid and like Will Graham, fear made me rude. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel guilty about who you were or what you wanted to do. I know that I want those things, but would never have the impulsive courage to pursue them. I was afraid that I would lose what little self I had left and though I trusted you, I overreacted and said some things I now regret. I will never blame you for anything that happen, it was my own inexperience that led to this riff. If only you knew, how much I grew to love you in these last few weeks. If only you knew how desperately I clung to the idea of you and I, but my sense of propriety stopped me, as it always has. In these last few weeks, I’ve given away a part of myself. A part of me I’ll never get back. A part of me that no one else can have. It’s yours and it will always be yours. There was a void before I met you, an emptiness I thought could never be filled. I never thought I’d meet someone who had the same private interests as myself and I don’t think I ever will. I didn’t realize what I had in you until I lost you.

Most people drown themselves in alcohol and tears, wallowing in self-pity and despair, but I drowned myself in poetry and songs and moon cake. I kept replaying this song over and over, until the tears flooded my eyes and my heart felt a dull ache. I kept replaying this song to keep you in my head. This is the closest I’ve been to heartbreak. You have become one of the people I care most about. And in doing so I’ve allowed you to hurt me in a way no one else can. It’s the people you love most that cause you the most pain. The tears I shed last night in fear are nothing compared to the ones I shed now. “I couldn’t really blame you if you turned and walked away, but with everything I fee inside, I’m asking you to stay.”

You were my muse as much as the Patron of my Heart was. He appealed to my traditional values.  You, you were something else. You brought out the side of me, you brought out the part of me that was only seen in my novels and poetry. You amplified and refined my art. The Patron of my Heart could never do that. He confined me to ideals, confined me to a societal construction in a way you never did. You set my heart free. You made me feel freedom again.

I’m such a cerebral person that not only do I overreact, I overthink. Every word means a million other things. Every word leads to a million what ifs. When you said you were giving up, did you mean in me? Did what I say make it so you no longer wanted to be friends?

Tonight I feel a familiar dull ache. I told you once I was afraid of being hurt. This familiar loneliness, the inability to accept that there is someone who actually cares for me has returned. I can no longer see my worth or my beauty. This has become the heartbeat of my life. This is the taste of sadness.

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