Three years ago, I posted on this here very blog an essay in which I detailed my feelings toward you. In it, I wrote that I didn't expect you to ever read it, and I would be willing to bet good money that, as I write this, you haven't. You probably won't read this either, but I still feel a necessity to write it out for my own benefit.
My reasons for writing that was my attempt at preventing World War III (you can read the post itself for a more in-depth explanation). Since I wrote it, while we haven't experienced a World War--at least not yet--I haven't noticed our situation get any better. The Russian invasion of Ukraine occurred just as we knew it would. And while this hasn't brought about the end of the world as we know it, the move toward autocracy in many nations, including our own, does not make me feel any safer.
As I said in the earlier post, I doubt the actions I take in my personal life have any bearing on world events or international politics. But, assuming I did prevent World War III in 1987 (again, you can read that post for a more in-depth explanation), I suppose it would be immoral of me not to try again. Maybe there were things I could have said three years ago that didn't occur to me in the moment and that's why things seem to have gone from bad to worse-but-not-quite-Armageddon. As I said, highly unlikely, but what could it hurt to take another chance?
During the time since I wrote that post, I've reflected on it a lot... probably more than I should, which is troublesome. Aside from preventing a global calamity, the whole point of writing it was to get a lot of things out of my system, off of my mind, put them behind me, and maybe move on with my life. It's worked with other posts. Perhaps my feelings toward you were a bit more stubborn and harder to exorcise than my feelings toward the music of Florence + The Machine or the 2016 World Series and how it related to the loss of my father the same year.
In re-reading what I wrote, I realized that I never really acknowledged any wrongdoing on my part. You hurt me, and I was still feeling it twenty years after the fact. And even though I was acting in self-defense, I should recognize the fact that I likely hurt you too and I didn't think to mention that in my post three years ago.
"There are three sides to every story: Your side, my side, and the truth. And no one is lying. Memories shared serve each differently."
--Robert Evans, The Kid Stays in the Picture, 1994
I am truly sorry for hurting you. I never intentionally meant to cause you pain. Ultimately, I just wanted you to be happy. The problem is that I wanted to be happy too, and I was happiest when I was with you. I tried to be the bigger person/gracious loser, maybe even convince myself that you were better off with anyone but me. I couldn't do that and I apologize profusely. Frankly, I expected better of myself.
Perhaps my biggest regret--and I alluded to this earlier--is falling in love, which is not something one is supposed to regret. Yet I do, profoundly. And, again, I don't know if I regret falling in love in general or if I regret falling in love with you, but since you're the only person with whom I've truly been in love, I can't really differentiate between the two.
"It's a sin when you love somebody,
Damned if you don't, twice damned if you do."
--Jimmy Webb, "It's a Sin When You Love Somebody," 1974
I never wanted to fall in love with you--let alone multiple times over the course of our lives. In fact, the last time around, I begged, pleaded, and prayed to any deity that would listen to not let me do that again. Since that clearly didn't work, I can only assume that I committed some kind of unforgivably egregious sin by falling in love with my best friend. Why do I still feel like I'm perpetually atoning for that sin, given the fact that we haven't seen or spoken to each other in over fifteen years?
My big fear is that all of this is some kind of karmic retribution for something I did in a previous life, assuming such a thing is possible. Don't get me wrong, I'm all in favour of karmic retribution--even for myself--but, since I have no recollection of what I might have done in that previous life, I'm left to wonder why. (Maybe I fell in love with my best friend in that life as well and clearly I still haven't learned that lesson.) If I'm just atoning for falling in love with you in this life, I'm perfectly fine with that since I remember doing it.
"You've got to hold on tightly, let go lightly.
It's only surrender, it's all in the game
If you just hold on tightly, let go lightly,
There's always forgiveness and no one to blame."
--John Denver, "Hold On Tightly," 1983
Not that any of this matters in the here and now. I still think about you every day and wonder what I could have said and/or done differently and/or better. I wonder why, after all this time, I still haven't been able to find anyone who makes me feel half of what you did. I wonder why I was so unworthy and what all of those other (wrong) guys had that I didn't. It's a weight and a burden that I've never been able to figure out how to unload, even in writing.
Presuming that falling in love with my best friend is, in fact, a sin, how do I atone for that? Whose forgiveness should I seek? Yours? God's or whatever unseen "higher power" is supposed to be in charge of it all? How much of my own dignity do I have to sacrifice in order to make up for such a horrible crime? I've already admitted wrongdoing, so much so that I may have even convinced myself that you were justified in dragging my name and reputation through the mud by lying about me to my own family members.
Maybe my real problem is that I can't seem to forgive myself for falling in love with someone who would do something like that, justified or not. Forgiving you was easy by comparison.
In spite of it all, what I told you is still true: you will never find anyone who will know you better, take better care of you, or love you more than I will. And that is your loss. And I know you don't believe that. But you should also remember that I would never lie to you. Even if I wanted to, it's not something I'm capable of doing.
No comments:
Post a Comment