Catharsis

I do wish, in a way, that I could talk to you again.  Not to curse your name, ask you why; not even to coax a compliment out of you.  For months I couldn't think of you, couldn't hear your name without a wrench in my stomach.  I wanted to talk to you then, to prove that I was worth more and that you would be sorry for tossing me aside, treating me like an old worn out doll.  I thought that if I could make you angry, make you sorry, make you lustful, I would win and that chapter of my life would close.  More then anything I missed you.  For more then a year I had bared my soul to you, treated you as a friend.  I told you secrets, not my deepest and darkest perhaps, but secrets none the less.  You may have been a terrible lover, but you were a damn good friend.

I cursed you for so long,  remembered so much of the bad that it's hard to remember the good now.  I remember you telling me that I was beautiful and wasn't crazy (and yes, you did say these things months before accusing me of being so.) I remember you telling me about the family you wanted and the dog and the house.  You had such a newly minted future then.  The day you invited me hunting was the day I decided I didn't care anymore.  Later my best friend told me on the phone that I would be sorry-I would get hurt.  I knew she was right, but my heart was long gone.

I don't even need to say what followed, except to admit what I vehemently denied then.  hysterically mad.  I was stuck between the school girl antics of my friends and the emotional tilt-a-whirl that being with you sent me on.  I won't say that I loved you, if only to keep from sounding more insane then I have already admitted to.  I did care for you though, deeply, and I didn't understand how you could not care for me.  Perhaps you did after all, I suppose I will never know.

When I met him I was still infatuated with you, but I was just beginning to understand the reality of things.  He held my hand while I walked and cried, and despite what everyone said he was a perfect gentleman.  That is when I should have stopped, when I crossed the line of what is honorable to what is despicable.  Though I have forgiven you, it will probably be decades before I can fully forgive myself.

For the purpose of this testimony that you will never see, what has happened since is neither here nor there.  I'm back though, back to the girl that you met during a waltz who laughed too freely when you spun her.  I am not infatuated anymore, not hateful or hurt.  I am terribly in love with your arch rival, and I would be happy spending the rest of my days with him if he asked me.  I hear you're doing well, and you have the chance to find the same happiness.  She's wonderful.  Love her.  Open your eyes and tell her she is worth the world.  I am sorry for everything I did and said to hurt you, and someday maybe you won't be resentful towards me anymore.  I know that we can never be more then cordial to each other; that we may spend the rest of our lives pretending not to see each other even when we are crushed together in crowded bars.

If I could change it, I would.  I wouldn't erase you from my life, but I would have demurred from your invitations and stayed the naive girl that I was when I met you.  Any power you once had over me is gone now, I think I have finally taken myself back.

You're a good person, the kind of person people want to be around.  Live a good life, stay well, and for the love of god please don't let any of the horrible things I once wrote about you come true.