The Solemn Apology

I really don't know where to start. But I'll try from as early as possible.

Maybe 2 years ago, I met someone. My teacher had us sit next to each other, and all I can say is it didn't work. We didn't look at each other, we didn't talk to each other... we didn't know each other existed. The next semester, everything seemed to contrast. Regardless of what seemed to be tension, there was some sort of comfort. Looking back now, I'm realizing that there was so much I could've said that I didn't. The next year, we had the same class again. To some sort of despair in the back of my mind, I wasn't next to her. And... that hurt. No reasoning, it just did. Every night I would try to go to bed, but anxiety would always whisper to me:

"Do you like her?"

I tried to tell myself no, but I knew lying to myself would only make me long for love more. The same thing happened that year, but talking to her became less common. I wish it didn't. I wish I could've said something sooner, but back then I didn't know what would happen.

I became more distant, and didn't really say much to her. But, I hoped she still cared. Because I did.

I didn't know if she still did, and I was scared. And also very stupid. I just decided to stop. The conversations over text and in person dissipated until it came to one Thursday evening where I really didn't think about how awful the repercussions of my actions were. I was dry, and texted one word at a time, and then she left. She was gone. I would talk to her, but it feels like some sort of restraint on my mouth to say words, or some sort of weight on my hands.

If you're reading this... I'm so sorry. Words can't really describe this guilt. We had some sort of connection that I killed, and I get to live with the blood on my hands. I hope one day I get to see you as happy as I was when you talked to me.

Sorry.