To my ex,
I’m sorry that I wasn’t enough for you, and I mean that in the sincerest of ways. It was honestly selfish of me to keep you when deep down I’m sure part of me knew we weren’t a perfect fit.
I’m sorry I didn’t see your true potential, and I’m even more sorry when I threw logic at your hopes and dreams. It’s horrible to think that I didn’t support you and your visions.
I’m even more sorry that you felt like you never truly knew me. I thought I had completely opened up to you, but in reality, I hadn’t really gone past the surface.
I never told you about my deep fears, or about how much anxiety I would cause myself when I was younger. It got so bad I’d cause myself eczema flare ups.
I’m sorry I was always so pessimistic and that I’d just say I’m a realist.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about all my silly childhood memories and about all my silly antics.
Every now and then I’ll find some wacky item I’ve kept and I think of you and how it would have made you laugh and how sad it is I never showed them to you.
I’m sorry I never earned enough money, and that when I did have some, I would spend it on new clothes to make myself look perfect instead of focusing on precious moments like date nights.
I hate that I blamed you for leading me on, when in reality we were both just trying to figure out what we needed.
And I’m sorry that we weren’t what each other needed.
I’m sorry that you believed me to be cold, when I was actually unjustifiably insecure and worried you’d leave
I let a lot of petty things happen because of it.
I should have never been worried about you leaving. If I truly loved you, I should have been happy to see you happy, with or without me—although I do admit it hurts that you are happier now.
And I could stay mad at you for the stupid things, but it’ll never change the fact that I can never blame you, because you were never mine to keep.