iRegret.net

You were miserable to me. The more I loved, tried to be there, the more you needed to hurt me, to cast me off. The drinking, the cheating, the general fucking-up and old-school meanness. Mostly I don’t think of it or you anymore. But sometimes when I am down or feeling ill, when I am prone to regret or sorrow or negative stuff, you come back and how much I loved you and wanted to help to no avail. But when I’m stronger there are times too that I want to reach out, to mend things between us, to forgive, believe you’re capable of being a better man now, give you that chance, that faith, because I need it at times, to have signs of the best parts of you still, now, but I know, as much as I know anything, that you’d hurt me again, even if it’s only kindness, simple friendship, respect, traveling to a new place we’re after. I can’t contact you, I can’t allow myself to give you any of me, even my forgiveness. And I regret that more than anything else, even the years I devoted to your brokenness: that it’s too great a risk to me to show us both something new and hopeful. Yes, I regret that more than anything, that there are some things beyond repair.

Submitted by: A