I’ve been incredibly unsympathetic to your situation. I don’t need to ask if you are sick of reading the over-indulgent dribble I’ve written about my feelings and especially the revolting things I’ve written on that tumblr. I know you are. I deleted the tumblr.
I didn’t mean to invade your privacy or belittle the memories we made in those posts. I was venting and I was venting inexplicably intoxicated. The things I said were unforgivable. I should never had brought your family up. I never have and I never will be able to know what it’s been like for you.
Not only were many of those posts hideous and full of hate, that e-mail showed the lowest and most repugnant side of my temper. That’s not me. I’m not picking and choosing the things you should remember me by. But please believe me when I say I didn’t mean any of the antipathetic and horrendous things I said. It’s too late though, the atrocious words were read. Your friend was right. I can never fully take them back. You read them. It’s done. We’re done. Its sunk in now.
You were right when you said it’s sad that I’m still not over you. It really is. It’s pathetic really. It’s my fault I fell so hard for you. I’m pathetic in that regard. I let myself feel that way and, again, like you have called me in other heated discussions before, I’m ignorant for it.
I’ll never know what I meant to you. It’s little to none now. The way that I’ve acted justifies that. I’m going to stop telling you what you meant me because it doesn’t matter now. Its not helping either of us in anything. It never will.
However, you need to accept the fact that you will always be my fairytale. I’ll be blunt about that. It doesn’t matter how much it makes you uneasy by the thought of it. I accept its over with you now. You need to accept that of me. Belittling my fondness for you will never make it untrue though.
I have no idea how you are ever going to forgive me. I don’t think it’s possible. I wouldn’t forgive me. I could barely look at you yesterday because I felt so peccant.
It doesn’t matter though. Yesterday was the last day I’ll ever see you again. As much I want to think we could be friends, I don’t suspect we will. Even more do I believe the answer to the question I asked you in a nauseating mass right after the break-up, the idea that I have forlornly grasp for hope from will never happen now.
I’m so sorry. We’ve both made mistakes. You’ve set all your sentiment in the past on the subject. I will too. My hope for “us” is lifeless. I’ll have you know, those words were excruciating to write.
My design for the next few sentences isn’t to melancholily emphasize my feelings for you. It’s to correct your idea of how I feel to you now.
We both know we’ll never see each other again. I’m out of your life now and you will never have to deal with me anymore. I promise from the bottom of my heart that I will never inconvenience you again. You are right to want to start this amazing journey on your own. As much as it pains me to declaim, you were right to end it between us. Nevertheless, you’re one of the greatest men I’ve have ever had the pleasure to have in my life.
I know you are going on to do great things. I wish you the best.
Goodbye Bear and I’m sorry. For everything.