Perfect

two

Dearest Maude,

I’m so sorry I did this to you. I can tell by the way you move and talk and exist that I broke you and that was never my intention. I got too caught up in the me and forgot about the we and I think that destroyed my chances with you.

I wish I could do this face to face; I never thought I would end up being the coward who wrote a god damn letter just so I could get my emotions out, but here I am. I guess it’s not surprising with how far I’ve fallen lately. I’ve slipped, so hard and fast, that I didn’t know how to stop it. I know that isn’t an excuse, not even close, but I don’t know what else to say.

I’m going to get better, I swear. I know that doesn’t mean much, that I need to do this for myself before I can do anything for anyone else, but just know that you made me want to be better. You made me want to be the man that you love, the one that ran away and was replaced by this shell, and I hope that you know I’ll always love you for that.

You’re probably thinking this sounds like a goodbye, and I guess it is. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, I can’t, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me. I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. I promise.

I can see the look on your face in my mind as I write these words, the anger mixed with disappointment, the fact that you’re not probably rolling your eyes at how well I think I know you, but knowing that I’m right. I’ll miss that. I’ll miss it all.

I'm so sorry.

I love you,
Pierre