Vicki,
It’s been nearly a week since we last interacted, and I didn’t expect to write you again, having already done so and having heard your feelings very candidly. It’s safe to say I miss you, and miss what we had, whatever it was that held us together — be it adoration or lust — as brief as it was.
I guess I’m writing you because even though I doubt you meant to, I want to thank you for helping me learn the most important lesson, from the very bitty bottom of my heart.
I know you told me repeatedly I didn’t do anything wrong, that may be true from your perspective. But from my perspective, it was ONLY my fault. When we first started hanging out, I was sick of being hurt, I was sick of trying to juggle my feelings against my fears. What I thought, and where I went wrong, was in thinking I’d somehow be protecting myself by not expressing my thoughts for you. That’s selfish, immature, idiotic, and ultimately, I ended up confusing us both (or at least myself?) and setting us up for failure, whatever our initial intentions were when we first starting hanging out. Let’s be frank, how could I expect you to be honest when I couldn’t do the same? I felt completely blindsided and shocked, and thought that it came out of nowhere. In retrospect, I’m not even remotely surprised you didn’t feel any romantic interest in me, considering I was incapable of expressing anything beyond my appreciation of you beyond your funfetti cakes other than a stupid text message when one of my friends died. WOW. Let’s just say it’s painful for me to look back on those moments of confusion and think it may have been different if I could have just acted like a fucking human being with a shred of compassion.
Even if I had come clean and told you how I felt while we were still hanging out, there’s no telling if that would have changed our trajectory, perhaps we would have parted under the same circumstances. But I’ll stop there, because this letter isn’t supposed to be about the past.
People like to say they want to remain friends after a fall out such as ours, and I can’t help but wonder if you are serious. I hope that you are, but I’d understand if you’re not. We were never friends before, and thinking logically here, it doesn’t really make sense that we’d become friends now. It wouldn’t really make sense that you’d want to be friends with someone who could be so selfish and narrow-sighted. I’m not sure I expressed anything that would indicate I could ever be a good friend — never mind a lover — to you.
We barely hung out and I bet I’m appearing more and more like a desperate, crazy person, my bad if you’re nodding to that notion… But I feel this heinously overpowering need to make it crystal clear to you I hope you know more than anything that I’m sorry I couldn’t be myself around you. Even if we were just a stupid fling and I’m completely overreacting (very possible), I don’t want to be that person.
If by some obscure chance you see this, when we do meet again, I hope I’ll have a chance to right those wrongs and be a man worthy of your friendship.
1 Comment
-
I feel this