Friday, February 27, 2009

Of My Regret

Dear lover,

Of my regret; it besets me more than you know. I caught up with a friend this evening for coffee and offered up what our end left to show. You wrote me online a query of spending time and whether or not to leave our virtual selves for the other to still see. And my response was vague and cold and shallow and only one word; 'okay'. I let you pick up the pieces of what we had that I shattered and knowingly so did unfairly. It occurred to me, the resolution on new years that I made in jest I've been indirectly perfecting so far. To be less a nice guy than in the past and at last turn away from looking for love. But unfairly enough and almost annoyingly so, for being more cold and more harsh, more hearts have been bared me. In showing our text message words to my friend I knew her response would not be to see my side or to even understand how I feel. And that wasn't the point, or maybe it was I'm not sure. But I did and it instigated my tilt towards this guilt and you to tell.

I'll tell you, as tonight I've been telling myself, I'm just trying to work it all or nothing out. See doubt is the anvil that grounds my falling and all that I do is drag everyone down to my level. I'm consciously more in the pursuit of pleasure and not even that of a sexual nature. More realistically, the pleasure of ego's my tether. The hardest curriculum I'm aware of is myself and where I'm headed and how I end up where and with who and feeling how.

To return to the notion of conveying my regret dear, I'd tell you of a song that I know. It goes, 'I didn't mean to treat you so bad, you shouldn't take it so personal. I didn't mean to make you so sad, you just happened to be there that's all.' I've been there and I've been you on the other side of a cold shoulder and felt the sting of someone older not necessarily in age but in acquired taste of being favoured. Like it's a turn off when someone wants you more than you want them. But how to create or end up with one who instigates the magnetism in a way that's so mutual that playing the game seems to be neglected?

You wondered to me, whether you wanted to continue to talk to me or not. And obviously decided to not when I noticed you were no longer available online. I remember the time we first met and in a bizarre and odd invoking feeling way you concluded our relationship almost the way it was commenced. I suppose for the best. The adding of a mutual friend and the stray instant chat message. Tonight you disappeared not quite completely out the world wide web door of my life, out of plain sight and out of my right to claim.

I apologise for writing you such harsh words. But the girl, that I honestly don't know, gave me impression of this most; that if not cold, to be luke-warm about my severing our ties would have only lead to more lies. But actually lies this time, because I'd know they were not truth with foresight, rather than for being a blizzard and, seeing how I used you and insisted, that we spend time together and be together and be physical in wistful, self-sorrowful hindsight like as now. I'd like to think one day you'll look back and perhaps say there were a few sparks of romance, but that's just a nice thought. More likely, you'll recall to friends and family and other lovers of the asshole that I was and how now my face burned in your memory makes you feel ashamed you spoke my name.

But dear, this again is my regret (for your sake understand) that I let you have some of my inspiration, and admiration and taste for desire and passion. I gave it to you from my heart, now knowing it was only giving to swiftly get back in return. I was yearning for some closeness and I'd even wrote about how hopeless I'd let myself be with a lover just for company. Because, I was certain that sometimes company is just enough. And still, I propose that it may be all necessary, in some instances. But if you are in a relationship, at any particular stage, you two have to think of it the same. But then a question like became our crux beckons from the start, but can't be executed without immediate distrust and no one likes to come across as such.

So, in determining the extent of your movements in haste the direction to forget me I scrolled through your status updates and realised the weeks of suffering you'd been subjected to in one perspective from my doing, but in another from your preluding what I wanted for me and you. I thought some things were obvious, but then if history got me once I should've learnt it well. Tell me this, did you really think that there was a possibility of forever together? Probably not, at least not consciously. And see this is the situation. People seem to live in an attitude where the options are either indefinitely together or not anything at all. With an attitude of why bother if it's not gonna last a little longer you'll end up being the less stronger of a pair that's starting to tear. So many of my words, for being poetic and imagination; contained truths. And I rue that you couldn't, maybe still can't, read or at least see what the words unilaterally mean.

Now I'm getting sidetracked in a pattern of disregard. And the point of this letter is to, my dear, impart. The side of my heart that for your discourse does feel and though I can't be your comfort I can tell you this and be real. I won't lie or pretend or give you some fairytale Hollywood ending. You've got to understand that I'm sending you this to help you move on. I've enough self-esteem issues and concerns of not ever feeling anything real or of lightness on my heart again. That to try and carry you upon it's breadth will never work and we'd both break and so it's hard but I've to take what I can of what's left of me from this situation.

In draft reply to some of your words, I wrote a little philosophy to myself. Sometimes you get a feeling, like a wave perhaps it washes over you. You go with it, like the tide, where it takes you, you just float. But then, not always, but still often, the feeling goes away with the rip, it leaves and you've no choice but to flee with it because to try and swim against the current or try walking into the breeze is pointless because you will eventually turn around. But for attempting and trying to prove something you'll have longer and farther to go than before. Yes dear, see I'm not sorry for leaving with the feelings' exit, I'm just sorry that from the outset you didn't get it. But somethings for not being able helped must run their course until there're no terms but to be dealt with.

In review and time spent stewing over how to tell you how I feel, I realised this is not concrete and even to myself reads with deceit of what I probably, and if continue to think, believe. See dear, take heed dear, you can't find nothing 'cause there was nothing there all along. It was just some sunsets, some sunrises and a bundle of drugs in between. I'm sure you'll scream and deem me everything insincere, but it's important that we cut now and forever clean from each other. My regret, my once dear, is that we were and both are still gripped by fear for different reasons and things. You; that you're not good enough, not pretty or attractive enough. You; that you're not what I want, and maybe so not what any wants. You; that you did something wrong or said something wrong or looked too long. Me; for fear to greater break your heart, to let you believe only to reason it was all fiction. Me; to be later than sooner a fake. Me; to cross my conscience and settle and resign. Me; to waste both yours and my time. Me; to take a path of a life I know I won't like.

My dear, of my regret, I tell you it's great and large. And it's span, for wanting love, surpasses what of myself I know now not to ask. Yes, I won't ever ask of you again or take from you any of our remains or request to be your friend. I'll only give and share of my regret. Yes, sometimes you only know it was love at the end.

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