I don't know what you're doing right now. I don't know why I'm fighting back. I don't know what sparked this and I don't know how to react to it. All I know is that my hands shake as I type these sentences. I don't have an ounce of anger left in me.
I know I was fucking confusing. I know I signed up for you and I didn't hold my end of the deal, okay? I think about it all the fucking time. I think about all of the things I could've done differently and it tears me to shreds because we could've been so many things. I could've been the one who stayed. I could've been the one who proved you wrong about people who leave because sometimes you got on my last nerve and sometimes I wanted to say, "I hate that boy," but through all my negativity and silence, I felt something unparalleled.
Isn't that the issue though? My entire part of the relationship was one big I wanted to, but I didn't. I wanted to call you but I didn't. I wanted to hang out with you but I didn't. I wanted to kiss you but I didn't. I wanted to date you but I didn't. I wanted to be the fucking perfect person for you but I didn't. And I don't know if I would've realized this had this not happen, and I know sometime I'll like a boy and we'll end up happy, but I feel despicable. I feel repulsive in my mind and body. This is so much bigger than you or this pseudo-relationship. I can't make people happy. I'm not capable of being someone that other people are going to love. People think I am intriguing and they get bored and despondent as they learn about me, and you make me feel like it's going to be that way forever. Realistically, I know that it won't be. Someday I'll be happy, but for now, I just want to be alone because not being with me seems to suit you pretty well.
I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I didn't give you what you needed so that you could be what I needed. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you when I was upset or angry or anything. I'm sorry that I wanted to, but I didn't.
And here I am again writing to this blog because I know I'll never write to you and seem vulnerable again. And guess what? I'll want to, but I won't.
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