Please accept my apology. Please don’t think it’s you. Please believe me when I tell you it’s me and not you. Please forgive me for pulling away at the first sign of me developing feelings for you.
Please believe me when I tell you that I’m trying, but my anxiety and fear of being hurt again is crippling me and the way I do relationships.
Please forgive me when I tell you that I’m trying but I can’t help but fear that you, too, will let me down.
I’m scared to get hurt again because the scars are still so very much present. I can still see them. I can still feel them on my skin, and each time I look into the mirror I can still see the pain in my eyes.
I know you’re not her. You didn’t cause the destruction. You didn’t break me. But my bones are still fragile from the trauma. You’re not her, and that is honestly the most refreshing and yet terrifying thing I’ve ever had to process.
You ask me if I still love her. And you don’t understand how guilty that makes me feel. Because admitting that you still love someone when all they did was use you is extremely painful.
I’m sorry I’m hard to read at times, but I am still trying to figure out who I am, and that takes time. I’m sorry if you don’t know where we stand. You have to understand that I’m trying to stand on my own two feet, but the ground underneath me is still so rocky.
You must think that she really did a number on me. You don’t understand the number of times that person made me feel like I wasn’t good enough.
So I struggle with a sense of self-worth.
It’s not that I’m emotionally unavailable. I am emotionally available, but I’m also as fragile as glass. And I can’t break again. I can’t survive another destruction. I can’t lose myself again when I’ve so desperately been trying to find myself.
I don’t want you to view me as weak. We both know that being aware of one’s emotions takes a different kind of strength. I have that strength, but I’m also only human.
I’m sorry if I dragged you into my mess. My intentions are pure, but my head is a horrible place to be at times. I’m battling depression, battling with the pressure of hiding my scars from you.
How can I comfort you when I can barely comfort myself?
You say, “let it go,” but that’s easier said than done. How do you let go of something that once gave you so much joy? Wait, did I say “something”? I’m sorry, I meant “someone.”
You say to not waste your time. And you don’t understand how much I hate that phrase. You don’t know what it’s like to waste 2 and a half years of your life. Do you honestly think I would waste your time when I’ve just wasted so much of mine?
I am still coming to terms with that. But guess what? Coming to terms with the fact that you’ve wasted so much of your time takes time.
You might think I’m a broken record. But I’m desperately trying to put back the pieces of me. I don’t want to use you as an emotional crutch. You’re not a rebound. I don’t want to numb my pain by jumping into another relationship with you. You’re better than that. I am better than that.
I have to heal by myself. You can’t fix me. And I’m not asking you to. I just need you to understand why I am the way I am. I need you to understand that it’s not you, it’s me.
I’m sorry if this is hard to understand. You want all my attention, but I’m telling you that my wounds need my attention.
You want me to put you first, but I’m sorry, I can’t do that. It’s time that I come first. I hope you understand.
I’m sorry I have to leave, but I don’t want to be late for my therapy session.