You must think I'm entirely ridiculous to even be writing these notes in hopes to turn back things that I've done—and still make myself sound like an absolute prick at the same time by trying to whisk your thoughts around.
I've wronged you in a lot of ways, and deflected everything going inside my head out into the world, especially to you. I'm not writing this to sugarcoat and make up excuses, because I feel more of a pest when I do — you've always known that.
I hurt you and I've continued to hurt you. And I'm aware of that. I'm not blindly throwing knives in this situation. My eyes are wide open the entire time and because of this, I've grown tired of the cycle.
To get hurt and then to hurt you.
I hurt you.
And the scars I've caused on your heart may never heal, even with forgiveness and time — just like my own.
I know more than anyone else how it feels.
It's so difficult; writing to you, I mean. When I know the past is unforgivable, hopelessly unforgivable and taboo, but I'm still trying.
I see you, and I want to keep trying.
I need to keep trying.
I'm not doing this for myself anymore.
