The look you gave me reminded me of
when you found out about the boy
at space camp.
It reminded me of when you sent me the
message saying, "I'll call you when I get home."
And then you proceeded to angrily cry and
sob in your room over FaceTime with me and
ask over and over again,
"How could you?".
It reminded me of the look you gave me that made me realize
that I had messed up so badly.
I had ripped your heart out
and when I realized that,
I wouldn't have blamed you for saying goodbye to me
right then and there.
You didn't, and I know you regret it.
I'm sorry.
I don't know what else to say.
I'm still here wishing I had made better choices.
I'm still wishing that I had held you closer sometimes, too.
You probably regret it all.
You'd rewrite that ending, wouldn't you?
God, that look...that look.
I pretended like it didn't break my heart
but I can promise you that it
did.
you can hit me in the shoulder and scream at me to watch my step or tell me I'm disgusting for eating raw honey or saying that orange essential oils smells awful even though it's the only thing that gets me through my depressive episodes, but I still feel that tenderness for you. I can't help it. I'm not sorry for feeling that, but I am sorry for so many other things.