To A
My apologises
Dear A
This whole letter is a clumsy attempt to be eloquent and sophisticated, your love for literature moved me to create this sad husk that is the best emulation of the works you adore I can offer. I can only look at the pompous language I have strewn in front of me and hope that my intentions are clear.
I'm sorry for how I treated you back then. I'm sorry that I'm a coward who never found the courage to say sorry to you. I was a disgusting, self centred man that couldn't see more to you than what you could do for me. In my boundless immaturity I could think of nothing else but to paint myself the victim and ignore any signs that say otherwise. It was only after I saw your tears wash that facade away I realised that I couldn't be more to you than a stain on your happiness, that I don't have the right to call myself more than that, whist having the gall to think that I should be treasured by you. I lied to myself again, saying that you deserved space as a cover for me to leave. No matter if that decision was right it will always be tainted by the cowardice behind it. Even now as I write this letter, I can't say who I'm doing this for. Desperately, I want this to be growth, to say I met the bare minimum standards of a human and admit how I've wronged you and be different form that ugly blot from back then. But I'm writing this letter, not talking to you. I typed and deleted so many messages without sending any : every time I'm terrified to tear open old wounds for you and face myself for what I am. I am a coward.
I thought this would be washed away when you gave me another chance. I thought that I could finally change my asinine behaviour and be someone dependable and try in some small way to pay the debt I owe you. I hope you saw in my actions what I was too scared to put into words. I took such a joy in hearing what you found beautiful in life, praying I could be part of it. I took pride in how you could now turn to me when facing difficulty. Most of all, I took gratitude that you gave me this opportunity to hear about all your woes and worries and pleasure and successes, in the comfort of knowing I was no longer a stain, thanks to your second chance.
It can only be karma that this time you trampled on my pride, belittled me and made me feel like more than a gnat you took interest in. Any attempt to stir up resentment in my heart is justifiably quailed by how deserved it is. To be so open with your affection for me and still go to another man, a man whose face I don't not know and neither do you, with only the knowledge it was "totally emotionless". I can only look at this and think that I have now been humiliated openly by you and I did so passively back then. I look back our shared memories and still want to give you a happiness, but now I realise that we are nothing more than stains on upon each other. I truly wish I had never met you and believe you would have been a happier person for it and that I maybe wouldn't have become like this. Regardless I still struggle to reconcile the sweet person who whispered in my ear, embraced me and trusted in me to talk for hours a night with the woman who sent me that message. I've known you for enough years to understand you wished to incite jealousy within me and strip me of any pride since before my first transgression against you the same thing happened. The same message, same intent still directed at me, just a different person you used to humiliate me. I am ignorant for thinking this time would be different, the same way you would call a man a fool for believing the sun may rise in the west. All I can say is this time I haven't wronged you, that in some disgusting twist of events the scoreboard is even. Evened not by the merit of healthy fostered relationship but only the mutual disregard we have put against the other. I will still call myself a coward since that is what I am and I am not a pious person that will let you grind by the heel for the sake of making reparations.
Kind regards, J
This whole letter is a clumsy attempt to be eloquent and sophisticated, your love for literature moved me to create this sad husk that is the best emulation of the works you adore I can offer. I can only look at the pompous language I have strewn in front of me and hope that my intentions are clear.
I'm sorry for how I treated you back then. I'm sorry that I'm a coward who never found the courage to say sorry to you. I was a disgusting, self centred man that couldn't see more to you than what you could do for me. In my boundless immaturity I could think of nothing else but to paint myself the victim and ignore any signs that say otherwise. It was only after I saw your tears wash that facade away I realised that I couldn't be more to you than a stain on your happiness, that I don't have the right to call myself more than that, whist having the gall to think that I should be treasured by you. I lied to myself again, saying that you deserved space as a cover for me to leave. No matter if that decision was right it will always be tainted by the cowardice behind it. Even now as I write this letter, I can't say who I'm doing this for. Desperately, I want this to be growth, to say I met the bare minimum standards of a human and admit how I've wronged you and be different form that ugly blot from back then. But I'm writing this letter, not talking to you. I typed and deleted so many messages without sending any : every time I'm terrified to tear open old wounds for you and face myself for what I am. I am a coward.
I thought this would be washed away when you gave me another chance. I thought that I could finally change my asinine behaviour and be someone dependable and try in some small way to pay the debt I owe you. I hope you saw in my actions what I was too scared to put into words. I took such a joy in hearing what you found beautiful in life, praying I could be part of it. I took pride in how you could now turn to me when facing difficulty. Most of all, I took gratitude that you gave me this opportunity to hear about all your woes and worries and pleasure and successes, in the comfort of knowing I was no longer a stain, thanks to your second chance.
It can only be karma that this time you trampled on my pride, belittled me and made me feel like more than a gnat you took interest in. Any attempt to stir up resentment in my heart is justifiably quailed by how deserved it is. To be so open with your affection for me and still go to another man, a man whose face I don't not know and neither do you, with only the knowledge it was "totally emotionless". I can only look at this and think that I have now been humiliated openly by you and I did so passively back then. I look back our shared memories and still want to give you a happiness, but now I realise that we are nothing more than stains on upon each other. I truly wish I had never met you and believe you would have been a happier person for it and that I maybe wouldn't have become like this. Regardless I still struggle to reconcile the sweet person who whispered in my ear, embraced me and trusted in me to talk for hours a night with the woman who sent me that message. I've known you for enough years to understand you wished to incite jealousy within me and strip me of any pride since before my first transgression against you the same thing happened. The same message, same intent still directed at me, just a different person you used to humiliate me. I am ignorant for thinking this time would be different, the same way you would call a man a fool for believing the sun may rise in the west. All I can say is this time I haven't wronged you, that in some disgusting twist of events the scoreboard is even. Evened not by the merit of healthy fostered relationship but only the mutual disregard we have put against the other. I will still call myself a coward since that is what I am and I am not a pious person that will let you grind by the heel for the sake of making reparations.
Kind regards, J
