dear....

I chose to be a better man because of you. That might not be saying much now, but it's true. I was forced into the lonely war and I embraced it. I questioned my sanity and feared I couldn't tame my hand. When the bottle and the smoke and the friends I thought I had went away, what was left was every time I'd ever caused you pain. Every time I'd ever looked away instead of trying to say the right thing. I can't surely say that I've completely changed. My anxiety still leads me to more drinks than I need, occasionally. I still struggle to speak for the dignity of myself and others. My thoughts still sometimes scare me. I'll never truly know the pain I've made you feel. I'm not sure I'll ever know what to say to you now. I wish that I could say I still love you, but I don't think it'd make any sense. You might get offended. I wouldn't blame you. I'm sorry I caused such a vile ending. It might live on with you forever. So it will live with me forever, too. But I know it's not the same. I don't think you ever knew this side of me, so it might seem like I'm lying. Sometimes I'm afraid that I am. How would I know? All I feel is this regret and guilt knowing how you must feel. I've written to you many times, but it never felt right. I say "I" too many times. I don't fully empathize or sympathize, whichever one I should properly do. And you're not the only one who deserves these sentiments. That just shows how misguided and directionless I was. But that's no excuse, and I'll never excuse myself. I hate to admit that I often forget about you. I hope you forget about me, too. I hope you've learned to let me go, and I hope my sentimentality doesn't confuse you. I hope everything I'm saying here is true, but it's only one side of me. I can't claim that I could find these words at any point of any day. If you were in front of me, I'm afraid I'd stumble and fall. Should I do that for you? Is it better to be honest? I still don't know. I hope you're okay.