Dear O,
I find it interesting how you decide to post your “Is an apology correct?” on a website and send it to me over Skype instead of manning up and actually apologizing to me. But I guess I should’ve known you were always that kind of coward. So I decided to give you a post of mine.
Four months. Four months I’ve been spending with knives in my hands, wondering how easily I could wash off blood if I had the tenacity to cut, but I still can’t seem to erase your handprints off my skin.
And the only mistake that you can admit to yourself is that you took my virginity.
Regarding your misguided post:
“We continued dating until December when we broke it off because her parents had found out about our sexual relations and demanded we stopped dating. I was heart broken…”
And what about me, then, dear, selfless O? What about that cold Halloween night when my mom found out about our “sexual relations”? Did that slip your memory? I called you after finding out that she knew, and I cried and cried and begged you not to leave and you left and you left and you left. For what? Trick-or-treating with your friends, leaving me locked in my room, my mother not too far away, wondering how she had managed to raise such a slut daughter.
When my dad found out, it was different. After all, mercy is not a father’s forte. It was the first time anyone had ever told me that they hated me. When he asked me why I did it, how I had stooped so low, all I could think of was that it was because I loved you.
“I think we had a good relationship, we really got along well and complemented and supported each other a lot, just the sexual aspect sort of took over a lot of our conversations the first time we dated and then the one time I goofed.”
Just the sexual aspect… sort of took over… the first time we dated… the one time I goofed. You’ve downplayed everything that puts you at fault, don’t you see? Did you forget the date we had when you pushed me to the ground in a public library, kissing me, when all I wanted to do was talk? And when I turned away, you demanded, “Why don’t you want to kiss me? What’s wrong with you!” And I sat there with a lump in my throat, wondering why it was so wrong for me to not want to be pushed onto the floor in a public library on a date that was supposed to be romantic. “Must be the birth control pills,” I whispered. And I still wish to this day that I had punched you in the face that moment and left you for good.
Did you also forget the way you talked about me like I was a piece of meat? Babe, hottie, sexy… you could never get your hands off my ass when all I wanted you to do was look at my face. And what about all those times you asked me to take my clothes off when we were chatting over Skype, like just talking with me wasn’t enough? And what about that time you slapped my butt while we were making love, as if I were some kind of porn star?
You know, I never resented you for taking my virginity. I resented you because you made me a person who scared me more than anything in my entire life. When we broke up, I felt liberated, like I had been wanting out for so long. But I was wrong. I wasn’t liberated at all. It was just the beginning. For a while, whenever I looked in the mirror, I wouldn’t be able to distinguish my head from my body. It took me a while to stitch them back together and see myself as a whole. I’d cry a lot and take a lot of showers, because I felt like your saliva was still on my thighs. It was awful.
I was so ready to forgive you, O. I really was. A friend told me that if I wanted all this to stop haunting me, I needed to forgive and forget. But then you showed me that post. And I knew I couldn’t do it.
In the end, a simple “I’m sorry” would have sufficed. But you couldn’t do that, could you? You needed to explain yourself. Explain why it wasn’t completely your fault, and leave out the parts that you should really be apologizing for.
But I’m not haunted by you anymore. And I’m happy where I am. Things are where they should be. Maybe we were never the type of people who were meant to reconcile. I hope one day you will find the courage to finally face your inner demons head-on, like I have been and still am.
Farewell,
M
3 Comments
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Dear M,
You misunderstood my intentions with that post and I’m sorry. I wasn’t just guilty for taking your virginity. I didn’t forget about all of those times. I fucked up so badly. I am so sorry for everything I did to you. I’m sorry for making you cry that Halloween. I’m sorry I handled that so poorly. I relive that stupid instance so often. If I could have just stayed calm for thirty seconds I would have been able to stay on the phone with you. If my friends had just not burst into my room at that exact second I could have stayed. God if I don’t wish I had stayed on the phone.
I still am haunted by the mistakes I’ve made over you and if I could some how make it up to you I would. I’ve spent nights terrified of myself remembering the first time I tried to touch you down there and you started crying. And then I fucking tried again. What the fuck kind of monster was that? I made you burst into tears and fucking did it again and again. Oh my god, that moment will be permanently scarred into my brain. And I wish I could some how make it up to you. I wish I could remove that from your past. Jesus every time I saw you cry I froze up. It was always my fault you cried. A boyfriend is supposed to help you when youre down not put you there. What the fuck.
I’m sorry for posting on the internet. I’m sorry but honestly I didn’t have anyone to turn to. I was so alone when you left. I know that I skewed the story, but I had to. I had to at least hold some of the dignity in my head to keep me from losing it. I wrote that message maybe 6 times before I could even look at it without feeling like vomiting. My mistake was showing it to you after editing it so heavily and I apologize again for that. When writing it, it wasn’t my intention to show it to you. I was writing it because I needed a place to turn and I had no where. I’m sorry that I showed it to you. It was a mistake
God if you thought I was justifying my actions in that post then you couldn’t be more wrong. I don’t want to be understood at all. There is no understanding the fucked up actions I did. I was so obsessed with sex and the stupidity of it all that I missed out on one of the coolest, nicest, most interesting and compassionate people I’ve ever met. You cared so fucking much about me and I questioned if you loved me. Jesus I was so fucked up. I was so afraid of being alone that I felt like I needed you to constantly remind me that you were still there. I’m so sorry that I did that to you. That I forced you to feel guilty every time you couldn’t do something with me. That I cursed at you and called you names that are disgusting. God if I could make it up to you. If I could stop myself from saying those words of insecurity and fear. And there was that call on the phone. When I threatened you. Jesus. If I could take that back. What the fuck was I thinking. Fucking lunatics don’t speak like that to people. God that moment is burned in my brain.
But I never even wanted your forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that I was sorry. I wanted you to know that I knew I’d fucked up badly and at least give you the satisfaction to know I wasn’t happy. That at least that would atone somehow for doing all of these wrongs to you. I wanted you to be at least assured that you had made the right decision and that you’d shown me the err of my ways. That I wasn’t happy. And you know what? if you continued to hate me for the rest of your life it wouldn’t matter as long as you knew I was feeling guilt too. Like maybe if you knew how it was eating at me it wouldn’t eat at you so badly.I could not be more sorry that you misread my message the way you did. And I wish I had the courage to say something like this to you in person but youre right I’m a coward. I was so afraid of seeing you and being blown away by you again that it scared the shit out of me. I didn’t know if I could take an in person encounter of you calling me the slime I was. I was so sure that you wanted to see me so you could curse me out and call me slime and disgusting and make me relive all of that fear that you had bottled in you. And if I had to listen to it and see you in person I don’t know if I wouldn’t have lost my fucking mind from that. In that moment when you told me you wanted to see me I panicked. I had some preconcieved notion that if we were to meet up it would be worse for both of us and we’d only end up fighting or walking away worse than we’d walked into it. I figured it was better to at least show you something that demonstrated I had a semblance of respect for you so that maybe you wouldn’t want to meet anymore and you could have your closure from where you are. At least it wouldn’t get worse. But no. I fucked up again. I made another stupid fucking mistake. I always do more harm than good. Jesus M if there was anything I could do to make it up to you I would. If letting you know I’m so sorry and trying so hard to repent for what I did give you anything then please know that that is the case. Please don’t ever hurt yourself over some scumbag like me. don’t think that I’m worth it. Please. If you ever meet someone like me again please oh god don’t let them think they are worth it. Anyone that treats you an iota of as badly as I treated you deserves not even a fucking second thought. You deserve to be happy. Youre an excellent person, a talented young girl who deserves all of the happiness you have in your life now. I can only wish you the best with any endeavor you pursue. You love with your whole heart and you face your fears. God if I could only be like that.
I’m so sorry,
O -
HOLY SHIT!!! That’s crazy that O found this!! My advice to M- Don’t forgive him. He sounds extremely abusive. O- see a therapist. Get yourself straightened out so you stop traumatizing the people your romantically involved with.
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O you treat women like shit, therefore you are a piece of shit. Do the world a favor, dig a whole so deep that you’ll disappear from this world.
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