The Last Sorry.

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It's nearly 1am and I've crawled into bed. I went to a movie with some friends with the intent and hope it would be a distraction from you. From the hurt you've caused me. It didn't work. I still thought about you and what is happening between us. I left my phone out and put it in the cupholder of my movie seat so that I would know if you'd try to reach me. I know you don't like it when I don't answer your calls. It's ok when I'm at work but any other time I should answer.

But lately when I call you my calls go unanswered. Sometimes they're returned...sometimes they're not. It feels like an unfair double standard. It took me a while to build up the courage to tell you that. I didn't want you to get mad. I didn't want to lose you.

But that didn't seem to do me any good but I feel like I'm losing you after all. Remember not all that long ago you'd always make sure to call me to say goodnight and send a text too. You'd text me "good morning" and call me when I was getting ready to leave for work. Now it's maybe a call just to tell me you'll call me later. I feel a little disappointed because I wanted to ask you how your day was last night but you didn't call. And then when you called this morning you said you had to run. You had to work. But...I have to run too. I work too. I still want to talk. But I don't say anything. I feel the hurt turn into resentment. But I keep quiet because I for some reason feel like I'm overreacting. That my feelings are irrational. I know they're not. But I don't quite feel like I can vocalize them yet.

A few days go on like this. You make an appearance here and there on the phone which makes me so happy. You're far away at work and we can't see each other so communication over the phone is all we have for now. But not for long. Because as the calls and the texts dwindle so does the connection between us. I'm not ready to give up yet, even though the voice inside me is telling me otherwise. You're dealing with a lot at your new job. You work crazy hours. Your grandma is dying. You haven't seen your friends in a long time. You haven't seen me. I tell myself, "he's going through a lot. maybe it's not you." But then I look at the signs, the changes in behavior, I do the math, I add them up. The resentment begins to show signs of anger. Anger at you for not caring about me anymore even when I told you how you were making me feel. Anger at myself for letting myself get caught up in another situation like this. The quick spike in anger then turns to sadness again.

I've told you flat out at this point how I feel and what I'd need from you to move forward. My messages go unanswered. The calls go unanswered. Where did you go? Why are you acting like this. If any other person treated me like this, I'd see if for what it is and walk away. But not you. You were different. You said you'd never hurt me but you are. And you're not all that different after all. 

I think I'm going to block your number and then erase it. I call you one more time. You don't answer.  I text you that you've hurt me more than you know. I'm shocked to see you text back that you'll promise to call me later today and that you never want to hurt me. 

It's nearly 2am now. You called but hung up. I called back. You said sorry can't talk right now. I feel dumb. Sad. Confused. Hurt. I want to yell at you but what would I yell?

I won't ever feel bad again for telling you you hurt my feelings. Or that I feel sad and lonely when you don't keep your promises anymore like you used to. I won't apologize for how I feel. I wish you would take ownership over your actions. But I wish more that you cared. I'm not going to blame myself or feel foolish that yet again another person has treated me this way. I'll stay the same me that while still is learning what love is, is becoming quite good and recognizing what love is not. 

The only sorry that is left is the sorry that I feel for you to lose someone that truly cared about you. I did everything I could to show you I cared and that is why I can leave with hope still for my future. 

sydney baylonComment