Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

June 8, 2010 § Leave a comment

You,

I’ve known you since I was five. You’ve had a countless number of positions in my life – classmate, neighbour, partner-in-crime, family friend, lover, best friend… You mean more to me than you’ll ever know because I’m unable to express the emotions you invoke in me. 13 years of friendship down the line, I’ve written you more letters than I can remember, but I’ve never written the most important one. An apology letter. Maybe one day I’ll stop being such a chicken-shit and I’ll actually show this to you, because that’s the least you deserve from me…

I don’t even know where I should start with this. I know I’ve hurt you almost beyond repair. I see it each time you look at me, and it kills me. Yet I know I don’t even deserve to let you know how much you hurting cuts me up. That’s my punishment, my karma, for everything I’ve done.

We’ve had a lot of adventures over the years, haven’t we? Our first alcoholic drinks🙂 I think we were 9 then. Vodka neat. We were such ninjas🙂 And we were what? 10 when we smoked for the first time? Remember how we promised each other that we would NEVER ever get addicted to cigarettes? We were supposed to be there for each other in case the temptation ever became too much. I failed you, and I’m sorry. I see you inhale pack after pack, and I hate it. It doesn’t help that I don’t want to be just another person on the list of lecture-givers and so I barely say anything about your habit. I’ll say it now though – I HATE that you’re a smoker because I know what it’s doing to your body. And I know if you wanted to quit, you could. But you don’t really want to, do you? Not enough anyway. If I could take it all back, that first trip to the shop, that first puff, I would. In a heartbeat. Maybe if I’d never been so willing, maybe if I’d had the common-sense to recognize it as a bad idea, maybe you wouldn’t be blackening your lungs every day. And maybe it wouldn’t make a difference either way. I’m still sorry though.

I’m sorry I could never see just how deeply depressed you were. That I was too selfish to see how much YOU were hurting, that I could only see how WE were struggling. I’m sorry that we fought so much, and that you cried so often. I’m sorry that I never took your threats of suicide seriously enough. And that night when we were sitting outside and you told me how you were going to end it all? That night when it finally hit home that you were not even remotely kidding? I’m sorry that YOU had to comfort ME. And that I never coherently told you why you were too valuable to lose. What if you hadn’t changed your mind?? I think about that sometimes. How you’d never have known just how much you meant to me and to everyone around you. I was your best friend, and I should have been able to MAKE you see what I saw. That was my duty, and I failed you. Again.

I keep repeating the same words over and over – I’m sorry. I hope that doesn’t make them lose any meaning, because I really am. Sorry, I mean.

I’m sorry that I thought that you only had to make the decision to keep living once. I thought healing starts immediately after the first conscious decision. But it doesn’t, does it? I ignored all the signs after that. I mean, I knew you were still depressed, and it only made more sense when you were actually diagnosed, but I don’t know why I thought that suicide was no longer even an option. You broke my heart when you told me that it was still a very possible ending to your story. You know that, right? I’ve never felt more pain than I did then. I now know that heartbreak is a physical thing as much as it is emotional. And I know sometimes you think I’m indifferent to you, and that’s why I have to say this now. I can imagine nothing worse than losing you. And that time you run away and your dad called me, I thought you had done it, and I felt like I was dying. I love you more than I love myself. And it’s a deep blinding love. You need to know that.

I still stand by what I said though. If nothing helps, if the pills and the friends by your side, and therapy and anything else you try don’t help. If you truly feel there is NO other option. If it ever reaches that point that it is truly and honestly beyond you, I free you from accountability to me. Because I’d rather carry the weight of that hurt on my shoulders for the rest of my life, than to have you carry it. I don’t know how to put this in a polite way, but I know you know what I mean. Because I’ve said it to you before.

I’m crying as I write this. And I’m scared because I know I’m about to reach the hardest part of this apology. And I know that this is long. But I don’t think we’ve ever been able to minimize on words when we needed to be honest with each other. And I need to be honest with you now.

Most of all And finally, most importantly, I’m sorry that I couldn’t love you the way that you deserved to be loved. I’m sorry that you had to suffer with me and all my numerous issues. I’m sorry that I’m so closed up, and I’m sorry that I can’t let you love me the way you want to. Because I’m not worth it. I know you feel like you should argue with me on that, but there’s no need to. I’m simply stating a fact. I’m not saying I’m undeserving of love, I’m saying that I’m unworthy of YOUR love. And that’s why I always run from you. I’m sorry I broke your heart, I wish you knew how much I hate myself for that. It was, and still is, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I push you away because I want you to stop loving me. Because I NEED you to stop loving me. I wish for once you’d stop being so stubborn and hard-headed.

This letter is so mixed up now. I think it says everything I wanted to say though – that I’m sorry for failing you as a friend and as more, and that I recognize that you deserve so much more. I just need you to recognize it too. And if you open your pretty eyes and look around you, you’ll see that there are so many people who want to and can love you the way you should be loved. I’m here for you. And I’m trying to change so that that statement actually MEANS something. I want you to read this, and you will. You’re the only person I’d consider going un-anonymous for. I’ve already written the email that’ll link you here. It’ll send on your birthday. September 13th🙂 I hope that this doesn’t open up any old wounds, but I know we’re similar in that our old hurts never quite heal over. So I’m writing this so you can get closure – so you can see why I do what I do. You said you’ll wait for me. Please don’t.

Happy birthday.

I love you, and I’ll never stop.

Me.

Often it is the most deserving people who cannot help loving those who destroy them.

– Herman Hesse

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