I’m writing this for you. I shouldn’t. But I will always make these mistakes and I will always prefer to make these mistakes. I would rather ruin my life now than wonder in a month if I should have ruined it after all.
There have been so many missed opportunities. I tried. I leapt. And fell. But I knew. I knew what would happen if it all went against plan. So I wasn’t surprised. And I was prepared. And I didn’t expect to ever talk about it with you. I had placed the whole thing under a see-through guise of ‘hypothetical question’. It wasn’t going to be an issue.
Maybe it was wrong. Of course it was wrong. And it makes me a horrible person, the wrong kind of person. I won’t apologise. Maybe I will. Life is short. Too short to apologise for things you don’t regret, and too short to not apologise on sheer principle. So I don’t know what to do.
Maybe it’s not an issue for you. Maybe it shouldn’t be for me. But you know me. And this passive-aggressive outburst won’t surprise you at all. And I’ve wanted that moment for almost three years. Even when we fought like the miserable brats that we are. We are so similar. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
So I’m in this brand new situation and I feel strange. I’m wondering what you are thinking and I’m wondering what I should do, if anything. Maybe these thoughts are redundant and maybe the whole thing means nothing at all. But I am enjoying thinking that it meant … something.