An Apology to Anyone Who Has Ever Left

Corwin was nice enough to let me borrow his platform to get some things off his chest. He asked me to let everyone know that he is sorry for leaving without warning, but apparently “writing got hard when I started having to be honest.” I’m not 100% sure what that means, but I guess I’ll take his word for it.

I’ve always questioned why people seem to come and go like dandelion puffs floating on the wind. Why I could be happily walking in the dark, hand in hand with someone who “loves” me, only to blink and be alone. I’ve spent countless sleepless nights lamenting over this, but I’ve finally had a breakthrough. Being locked in a room by myself has given me the time to self reflect, and find the common thread between everyone who’s ever left. They got better.

While it’s true that I’m a comforting face when the world was crashing down around them, as they put the pieces back together something so broken just didn’t fit the aesthetic anymore. And I was being selfish. So overjoyed that I’d found someone to walk with me that I didn’t realize our paths were diverging. They’d started to find light at the end of the tunnel, and I was pulling them back towards a much darker place than they deserved to be.

So let me start my apology to anyone who has ever let me go.

I’m sorry for being bitter.

For ever letting you see the resentment that settled in the place you used to occupy.

For reminiscing about our long nights spent discussing our dreams and misery.

For continuing to bother after you clearly had gotten everything you needed.

For daring to think that you’d ever want to stay in that place we found each other in.

I’m sorry I can’t hate you,

Sorry that I want to hate you,

Sorry that I spend hour after hour looking for reasons to hate you.

I’m sorry that I know as soon as you slip and fall that you’ll reach out your hand for me.

That you’ll let me hold it just long enough for you to find your way again.

That once you do, I’ll be all alone again.

But most of all, I’m sorry that I look forward to that moment.

I hope that no one that this applies to ever has the great misfortune of reading this, and I hope you’re all doing well. I’m not, but I do hold out hope that when I’m not such a grating addition to the life you’ve made for yourself, you’ll talk to me again. I miss you.

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