i’ve done it again. once again my words have failed me. as i wrote something that i thought would explain how i’m feeling, would tell you where i’m coming from, i was hurting the one person i care for most in this world.
my stomach aches with guilt. my eyes brim with anger.
when i wrote about the politics of loneliness, i had no intention of hurting the TTHM. i had no intention of hurting anyone. i have, i’m ashamed to admit, written words with the intent to inflict pain. i’ve written words to get what i want, to manipulate, to shame people. my writing is not always honorable.
but last night it was meant to be honest, to help me explain to myself the internal-dichotomy– to help me rationalize the strange harmony of my disparate emotions.
since what i wrote hurt him, i failed. i failed miserably, and i ache that the irrational thoughts of an irrational girl coming through the fingers of 31-year-old woman could make a man who makes me happy sad.
i’m so sorry.