I am still sorry for how I stepped on you like trash.
Someone told me to get you back, but how? You weren’t even a valid identification card, which will give me rights; you weren’t even a law to abide by; you weren’t even a bulb with a switch; I am not even a nail to your finger; I am not the sunshine you need in the morning; I am not a bottle you could flip to try your luck; we were exactly nothing.
If we were in the movie “Divergent,” we belong to the factionless — a homeless section with reckless points of view…
Yeah, I did you wrong. But it doesn’t mean you won’t consider my side. Say it’s pointless, for my feelings are vaguely different from yours. I am the one who initiated resigning, but I felt like I was the one being left with a torn contract.
This letter does not intend to give me the role of a victim. These words written in my nightmares are meant to convey an explanation that no one dared to translate.
Have you ever displayed yourself on the balcony and uttered the question, “Why did she leave, like reciting the alphabet so easily?” Something triggered me — the gap in your forest you built in my head. I see no progress on the list of trees you told me you’d plant for me.
What if I was just testing you? I have been into hell, and was it the wrong move for me to make sure that I entered the right heaven? I was waiting for you to stop me, to tell me that everything would be alright, to comfort me, but you didn’t open your arms to hug me.
I guess you’re right — I love unjustly, I wasn’t clingy enough to stick the title of my intentions to you, and I chose to be someone you’ll hate.
The I love you’s i sent were real, and then I realized that you were and will never be ready for me.
