Well, I’m in the same boat. But I’m gonna give you some of the advice that someone once told me on the very same matter. So, here goes:
You have to first, stop obsessing over it. Everyone, every single person that has graced this earth, has done something they regret. Everyone. Anyone who says otherwise is full of shit. So know you’re not alone. But the difference between people like us and everyone else is this: they learned to accept the fact that there is no time machine; no going back. You have to remember that. And you have to remember that whether you like it or not your experiences shape you so if it weren’t for your regrets, your good choices and bad, all your memories, you wouldn’t be you. And you are amazing. You are fucking awesome. You shouldn’t change.
No matter how big or small the deed that you regret, it’s not going to change just because you dwell on it. You have to take from it and learn from it. Do something different the next time the situation arises.
I hope that this helped, dear anon.
Gah, this is gonna be a hard one…
Dear person I had a crush on,
I’m not sorry about the way things worked out in the end, because I realize that you, and I too probably, are better off this way. I should have taken your hints. With a little time and distance, I’ve come to see just how messed up I was, and I’m sorry. I hope someday we can be friends again, like we were before, but I know that day is not today, and I know that day may never come, and I know that things won’t be just like they were before. Please don’t come back, not yet. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to have you in my life again, but I am sure I’m not ready now.
It still hurts a little bit to hear your name, or to hear those random syllables of a conversation I’m not a part of that for whatever reason sound like your name, but not for the same reason it used to. Over the years, the pain has changed time and again, from Hope to Envy to Remorse. I still catch glances of people in passing who look enough like you that my heart starts beating twice as fast, as if it were about to push itself right out between my ribs, climb up onto my shoulder, smack me on the face and shout, “fucking get over her!" There are still nights when I can’t fall asleep without thinking about you, and I’m ashamed of that. The thought of you still fills me with anxiety, not the kind that swoops down on you like an eagle on its prey, but the kind that hovers over you like a mosquito by your ear in a dark room, and I almost would prefer the prior. The first leaves as quickly as it comes, but the second is always there, always buzzing, always begging you to swat at it and end up smacking yourself in the head. I hate to use the trope of comparing people to drugs, but it does fit so well. I don’t think I mean it in the same way they do in the songs, though; if you were my drug, then you were heroin, not ecstasy.
I want to tell you that I love you, and I want to tell you that I miss you, and I want to thank you for saving me (from myself), but I’m not sure I really know what any of those things mean anymore. The trouble with telling someone you love them is that you’re never sure whether it’s actually love. In hindsight I know that what I felt for you that I thought I could call Love was merely Infatuation at first, and then for a time it was Dependency, so what sort of impudent gall would I have to have to say that I love you now? The trouble with telling someone you miss them is that you’re never sure whether it’s actually them that you miss. I know I miss your company, your conversations, your reassurance, and so on, but I’m not sure whether all these parts that I miss can come together into the whole you. The trouble with thanking someone for saving you is that nobody ever really saves you in that sense, you always save yourself. You were the first person to tell me that, in fact, and over time I’ve seen it proven true again and again in other people as they’ve turned to me for saving, but no matter how much I believe you, it hasn’t gotten any easier to see myself as the hero of my own story.
I hope your life is better now. In a certain sense, I hope I was what was holding you back from happiness, only so that now you can be happy, now that I’m gone. I know that probably wasn’t the case, and that there were other things you had to deal with, many of which you’re still dealing with today, but I still hope you’re at least better off without me, and I’m sorry. Someday, your life will be beautiful, and it will be beautiful despite me and not because of me, and I’m sorry. I hope you find someone who you truly love and who truly loves you, and I know that I will never be that person, and I’m sorry.
I can’t think of a way to end this letter, so I’ll end it with the last words I never got to say to you in person:
Goodbye, thank you, and I’m sorry,
I Shall Remember You
My right thumb has swollen,
Angered red and painful to the touch.
In theory, it was worth it,
Even though it’s burnt for nothing,
Flicking the lighter’s wheel
Watching for the spark of orange
With a heart of blue flickering
In the wind from the dark sea
And darker skies.
City lights shine…
Every time I truly start to love someone, I fuck everything up and they leave.
Team single fo lyfe!! 😔✊💔
I officially suck at relationships..