Sorrows Barely Wanted

I'm so sorry.

I think I hurt you more than I could comprehend at the time.

I pushed you away. I didn't trust you. I didn't believe you. I chose, I had to choose, but I still don't know if I chose right. I loved you, loved you with my everything. I wanted only you for the rest of my life. I still have nightmares. They are happy dreams; all bright, shining, smiling, laughing; but I wake up scared, alone, afraid, lost. My dreams hold you in my arms, hold our children against me, walk through our home, live in our hopes. I shattered those hopes for both of us. I killed our children. I murdered our lives together. I'm some new kind of monster, a monster that blindly devours wishes and dreams, love and happiness, hopes and prayers.

I'm so very sorry for what I did to you, to me, to us.

I am always second guessing myself, always being reminded of you, always wanting something back, always comparing them to you.

It's not that I don't have anyone else that wants me, it's just that all the ones that want me, only want me. They don't love me, they don't even really like me at all. I can't keep substituting want and desire for love. It only seems to open old wounds, make them sting and burn again.

You are so far the only person that knows everything. You can read me, even things I never told you, you knew. You know my bad habbits and my fears. You know my best spots and my worst. You know my every move and muscle. You know more of my body than either I or my mother or even my doctor knows. You know when I behave what way and you know when to ask me what's wrong.

I don't cry for people often. I didn't even cry a whole lot when my great grandparents died. You probably have the largest tear jar from me. My father makes me cry a lot as well, but not often for him, more for the people he talks about. You have tears of joy, of sorrow, of fear, of angst, of betrayl, of regret. You own the most laughs and smiles as well. Smiles of true happiness, bashfullness, embarassment, memories, understanding, wanting, desire, content, love. Laughs of tickles, funny moments, remarkable recoveries, phrases, movies, touches, unexpected courage. You own more of me than anyone I know, and it's things that I can never get back, no matter how often I push you away or how often I try to deny you now.

I am so sorry for doing this to you. You have to be taking it better than I though, you seem to have a nice life going for you. I believe you aredoing well at trying to move on. If only I could let you go, if only I didn't feel the need to talk to you first, to tell you first, to have you know everything about me. You don't even care when I tell you, I don't know why I hang on so hard, so desperately. You don't want me. You just want me to go away, to leave so you can move on. You want me to leave you alone so I can stop hurting you.

I am a cruel person. I don't want to be cruel.