I was cleaning my bookshelf and I came across a letter written to me last year by my ex. It reads:
“The fact is that I broke your heart. I tore it open and exploited you. Truthfully, I am ashamed, as I should be, but I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.
I made heartbreak a physical place which was your cage that I destroyed the key to. I can’t be the one to reforge that key so for that I am so sorry. I told myself that I wouldn’t say sorry until the end because I know you hate it, yet I’ve already said it three times.
I know how much you value the art of communication through words. I’m no Picasso but anyone can pick up a pen and paper. Sorry for my jumbled thoughts.
I want to believe that I was doing you a favor, by protecting you, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I was a coward. And the fact that you are indeed stronger than we both thought, and that I was weaker.
I could have texted you, or called you, or sent videos repeating the same ‘broken-record’ shit you hear a lot, but distance played a sick, twisted game in the masquerade of communication between us, so let this be the most honest and raw thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of releasing to you.
I’m not expecting a thank you, or even forgiveness. I’m just sick of being so dark to people and to myself. Take care.”
