I hope that, somewhere, you’re still listening to me.
I hope that, in that small house? You’re reading this.
I want to hate you some days, but I resist most of the time. I try to have compassion for your pain. I try to understand that there is some madness that lies beneath your skull that drove you to stupidity and daft, depressed mania. I’m not a perfect being, but I’m better at all of this then I’m not.
On some level, however, I need you to know that you threw away what would have been the best thing you could have found. I was willing to love you on just about any terms you needed…because that is how I love. It used to be me, just being a door mat for woman without self interest. While I’m not saying that doesn’t happen from time to time…it’s not the rule anymore.
It’s the exception…and it’s the exception only one time.
If you some day get your head out of your ass, and manage to also unlodge the stick that has to be wedged up there? If you apologize? I shall forgive you…just know that there will never be an us. I would have loved you beyond your wildest dreams…and you threw it away for the unrelenting quiet of your own, lonely home.
I hope it was worth it…because you’ve burned a bridge you can never recreate. I will not send you words of hate. I will not demonize you. I will not even scream at you the failings of your own character…and I have every right to do so. No….none of that. I’m not that man.
I’ll just never be your man either.