You Know...

Will Hunting reminded me a lot about myself. All the things I tried to forget.

"So this is that part where you tell me I have an attachment problem, right?"

I wasn't sure if I should hand-write this to you, S.H., or if I should put this "anonymously" somewhere out there in the ether.

You've likely long forgotten about me, but I wanted to thank you. Since you, I've never been as vulnerable. Maybe it's because the ultimatum you gave me was that if we didn't start seeing each other more often, you'd cheat on me. I honestly can't tell if that's why I'm scared of opening up again, and I wouldn't want to pin that on you anyway, just in case you'd be good enough to bear the guilt. I don't think you'd deserve that. It isn't my punishment to place, inadvertently or otherwise.

So I guess I'll say this out loud to strangers, and the only person that matters is me. Self-indulgent, sure. But I'm going to be moving in less than 30 days and I'm starting to realize what's wrong with me. Before I leave, I want to set the record straight.

I opened myself up to you. I thought I was doing everything right. Working a full-time job. But looking back I was certainly inexperienced in the ways that the night would best understand, and I had much to learn. I suppose everything happens for a reason and this is my chance to go out into the world and figure that shit out. And now I'm moving to pursue - perhaps mistakenly - a career. Distance would've torn us apart at some point, so it would seem it was intelligent of us to have our bloody skirmish after a Christmas ceasefire, have our men wonder why they're fighting one another in the first place, and get it all over with.

I'd wonder if on my death bed, or whatever day I end up dying, however I go, if I'll think of you. How different my life would've been with or without you. Now I just hope that I get to a point where what happened, merely had to happen. A forgettable means to an end. No regrets because you know... it was for the better.

I hope you were better off. I hope I was better off. I hope you're happy, and finally satisfied in all the ways that I failed.

I tried. I really did.

I pray that I will be able to open up to someone more than I ever opened up to you. And I opened up to you a lot. You were my first. I pray I can let Her into my fucked up world. To give Her the password. She will speak friend and enter. She won't stay for the riches, and won't be scared off by the skeletons in the dark recesses, the sins that I've committed and the wrongs that will be my doing.

I pray that God will spite me in the name of all that is good. That in spite of my curses and threats, He will show greater courage than I've ever, and pass just a piece of it onto me. Enough that will make me dare to enter a world other than my own.

To love someone more than I love myself, in complete disregard of fear. To be willing to go the lengths of suicide-by-abandonment. Death-by-betrayal. To trust that much. I sincerely doubt that God could grant me such capability. Though if He doesn't, I should surely fade away.

For my here-unto dearest S.H; Your initials a polite bid to whisper. To be quiet. To be silent.

To finally sleep, in found peace, however hard and cold and dark.