It’s been a long day. A Monday for sure. We usually catch up about our weekend on Mondays. It’s never anything exciting, but it was always nice to take a break and laugh about the mundane things going on in our lives together. I feel so strange journaling my feelings here because I’m sure it would seem to anyone that the sheer fact that I’m writing “letters” to you here (letters that will never be sent) would be indicative of a desire for more between us. But that’s not the case. This is supposed to be a place that I can be transparent and work through emotions and a lot of unanswered questions. The “what ifs”, the “I should’ves”, the “if onlys”. I’m told this will give me some insight as to how I got us to this place.
I’m the one responsible for every bit of pain I’m feeling right now. Because I showed you a part of myself on the 7th that I didn’t even know existed. I said words I didn’t mean out of fear and hurt. And the fear and hurt weren’t your problem. They were mine. I struggled with the fact that you never really did trust me the way I thought I trusted you. But perhaps your feelings were justified because clearly I didn’t trust you in the way that I thought I did. If I had, I would have believed that you valued our friendship. I wouldn’t have believed you weren’t just playing along because you were afraid I’d turn on you. I would have believed I mattered to you as much as you mattered to me. But in a moment of insecurity, fear, and what I can only describe now as complete desperation, I threatened to use our secret against you.
I was never going to do it. I thought when you saw the words you would immediately pick up the phone and call me. And when you responded that you couldn’t talk because she was in the car with you that packed another punch to my gut. And I know you didn’t mean for it to be that way. But it did. It did because you had almost convinced me that it was so real that we could be completely transparent about the fact that we were friends. You said it should be fine if I text or call or email regardless of whether or not she was around. My family knew every time I talked to you whether it was on the phone, a text, or an email. I totally laid it all out there because why wouldn’t I? We weren’t doing anything wrong. We were on the path back to “Me and You” and how we’re both “Blue”, so why the secrecy? That’s a question that’s going to haunt me for awhile. And the truth is, it doesn’t matter why. My words were indefensible, despicable, awful. It tears me up inside every time I think about it because it was all so unnecessary. Everything that transpired could have been avoided if only I hadn’t been so freaking insecure about your sincerity. But it doesn’t matter how sorry I am, there’s no going back.
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