I'm listen to a band I think you would absolutely adore. I'm listening to a woman's voice screaming what I should have told you long ago. I'm listening to a man's voice hoping that it's you giving me what I honestly long for all along... forgiveness.
This is the last stage. This is the last draw. This is where I swallow my pride and simply say:
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry for everything.
I'm sorry for not being what you thought I was. For the deception. It was due to pure longing to have your affections. To hope to be better than everyone. In the end, I just ended up as a party joke. A sad old rumor about a sad young girl.
I'm sorry for my immaturity. But don't worry, this experience has taught me well... isn't that what you always wanted to do? Teach me a lesson? I've paid my dues, I think.
I'm sorry for thinking it was something more even though it was obviously not. I'm trying to repent and set the record straight. I think I fell in love with being old and now I can say that even though a lot would argue about my age and how 'young' I am, I'm wiser... I'm wiser because of what happened. I guess that merits a thank you. So, thank you.
I'm sorry for the embarrassment. Your actions have caused me my share as well. It's alright. Consider even.
I'm sorry about never forgetting. I can't help it. My heart rules my head and if I had a choice, I'd leave this organ in my chest tucked in a chest under my bed. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for you being always on my mind... for hoping just a little tad more. I deserve better and you deserve someone truly older and wiser.
We both deserve to be happy and as the memories in my head seem to fade (I barely remember what you look like, what was it that made me think that we were meant to be or what made me think that it was possible) I've come to realize that we both deserve to go out of our way and forget. But before I do so, I ask, most humbly, for your forgiveness.
Forgive me, lover. Every now and then you're on my mind. Just every now and then.
Forgive me, my past lover. Thank you for the lessons on heartache. Thank you for the lessons on crying over something that never really existed. Thank you for the kiss, the peck, the smile, the knowing look and nights of possibilities beyond my world. I may have been a heart played but you are, with no doubt, what your profession is (even now, writing it is hard).
Forgive me, self for putting him up there in that pedestal you try so hard to crush. Let's face it. He's worth less than what we assume. He's the epitome of what we hate the most. However, the moment he calls, the moment you see him and he strikes conversation, you will be there. You will be happy answering his questions. You will think that it's all over and you can begin anew. And at that moment you will not remember this letter. You will not remember this post. You will remember this song keeping you company on this cold November night together with the three bottles of beer in front of you.
But for the moment while I am still sane I ask for your forgiveness and will always remain to be...
... the one who constantly cares loves thinks of you,
S.A.
