Then again, it's been how long? I don't even know. Time has been a blur. Depression does that. You probably haven't thought of me in years. Probably don't even remember me. It's most likely just me still stuck in the past while you blaze a trail forward.

Keep going and don't stop.

ILY.

Or maybe better.

Maybe I could be a tree.

Oh well ... maybe in the next.

So I guess I'm still being selfish, huh?

I thought about you everyday for years. I felt insane. And not in the "boohoo take me back" sort of way, I would have never had the audacity to ask you to get involved with me like that again.

As a friend? I would have tried. I did try, I guess.

I just want a voice that matters to tell me to live.

And you don't owe anyone closure, J/V. Especially not me. And maybe you don't want closure on your end, or you would have gotten it over all the years. But if you ever find this, which I don't think you will, this is my best attempt at giving you it because you deserve it. But only if you want it.

And I made a selfish decision that hurt you. I was only thinking of myself. I realized that very quickly, but it was too late. And it's still too late. It will always be too late. Words can't undo the damage I did. Or maybe I'm being dramatic. I wouldn't know. There was never closure.

I hated myself and thought you would, too, if you seen me. I didn't realize that what I had was a once in a lifetime thing. And I know it's gone now. Dead. I guess that's the tragedy of retrospect. I thought it would be less scary being with someone in the same country as me.

I wouldn't have come this far if I didn't need help. I remember reaching out to you when you felt suicidal. Trying to do my best to help. I wasn't doing it to try and get involved with you. That just ended up happening. The idea of either of us loving countries to be together scared me.

It took me several years to stop thinking about you everyday. To stop being cruel to myself for what I did to you. It took me years to find some semblance of balance once you were gone. I still remember the way you said my name. The times I'd spend calling you between classes on campus.

I don't think I'm a bad person. I'm sure you do, if you're reading this. You probably think I'm horrible, J. And I was. If you ever see this, I will always be filled with remorse at having broken your heart, and at having never heard your voice again.

But the dumb, fake book is right. A happy ending just isn't in the cards for all of us. I've known for a long time that I would be the one left to fend for myself. That I would be the one so easily unforgiven.

I've known for a long time that I'm a dead end. I tried not to be.

I want the people I love to flourish. Even if it's people who don't want me in their lives anymore, even if they're people that hate me. I want you to shine like I never could and some of you are and that's beautiful. Fucking magnificent.

I used to think I could shine, too. That I could matter.

I can't undo the things I've done. I can't unhurt anyone. All I can do is be sorry and be sorry I shall until the day I finally die.

The truth is, I've rarely ever been happy. And I'm sorry for inflicting that on others. And whatever happens to me, I hope I can be forgiven by everyone it touches.

But if anyone finds this one day.

I'm sorry. If I hurt you, I'm sorry. If I disappointed you, I'm sorry. If I ever made you feel less than, I'm sorry. If I pushed you away, blocked you out ... if I made you a victim of my own problems, I am so, so sorry. I never had bad intentions.

Writing this here feels better than putting it there anyone can actually see. Then it doesn't feel like I'm just being ignored, which is what would happen anyways. So maybe this place can just be a diary someone will find one day. Or maybe I'll just get posthumously clowned on by republicans.