If I said how I really felt, I hope you would cry.
I hope that the raising of my vocal cords would hit you in every part of your abdomen and it would make you feel so sick with yourself you would suddenly want to throw up across the carpet.
I hope that my words would strike you so hard, relentlessly, that a lump in your throat would develop and you'd have to force yourself to hold back tears that would begin to glisten in your eyes.
I hope that you would physically be able to feel the weight of guilt on your shoulders, the same way Atlas carried the weight of the world.
I hope everything I would tell you would creep it's way to the deepest corners of your mind like a parasite and consume you from the inside out, eating you away slowly so you would feel a constant discomfort.
I hope you would feel the agonizing, mental pain I do every time I think of everything that went wrong and I hope you feel remorse.

But see, I could never say how I felt. I could never raise my voice at you and shake your shoulders as my eyes tried to unlock some sort of culpability in your soul; A realization of how much it hurts.
You will never know what it feels like, but I wish you did.
I wish you did.
Because if it finally just hit you, then you would know how it felt when what had happened hit me.
If it finally just hit you, I'd never have to fantasize what it would be like to make you cry when I told you how I really felt.