I don’t blame you for your anger, but did you have to be so relentlessly cruel? I’m not sure you ever truly loved me, after all. Then again, I know I deserved your wrath - deserved the hard, cold force of reality shoved down my throat. Still, it’s not like I didn’t punish myself enough, beat myself up repeatedly. I promise I was harder on me than you ever could have been.

I don’t blame you, I really don’t. I didn’t intentionally set out to hurt you. I was just so damn lonely, day after day, week after week, month after month, and then years passed, and I wondered if I’d ever feel alive again. I felt so old and withered - abandoned in the perpetual struggle of our marriage. All my efforts felt futile, disparaged, and I truly thought I might die. The need for affection became a palpable thing, growing inside me like a cancer - a volcano preparing to erupt. I never would have guessed I could succumb to such temptation, but I guess I’m more human than I thought. More than anyone thought, for that matter.

I don’t blame you – I’d be angry, too. I’m a sinner in the worst of ways. It's an irony for sure, because I’m not narcissistic – was not at all like you were in our relationship. But suddenly, my overwhelming need took precedence. All I could seem to focus on after years of being ignored was the gnawing, burning need inside me, as if I was an infant in need of sustenance and nurturing. And then one day, I was extended the slightest branch of affection, much like the apple given to Eve, and I grabbed hold of it as if my life depended on it. I’m sorry. Truly I am.

I don’t blame you. I was wrong – so very wrong, but I’ve learned to forgive myself. More importantly, I’ve learned to forgive you. I know now that we were two unfortunate, sad souls, bound in a vice of marriage that should have been forged open years sooner. Unhappy people can become desperate people, and we were both desperately seeking an escape. I forgive you. I forgive myself.

My forgiveness has lent a new born renewal to my life, releasing me from my own self-loathing as well as the loathing I once felt for you. Now, in the later years of my life, I am able to see the better moments we shared, and I am thankful in a way I never thought I would be. Life throws us curved roads when we expect straight ones, so we must adapt, must learn to navigate the courses. We could have chosen to continue to feed the hatred, but instead, we chose to free it into the universe and feel something more – something unexpectedly better: a recovered friendship and a different kind of affection.

No, I don’t blame you - not anymore. Unfortunate choices were made, but we have both learned from these mistakes. We’ve let go of the bitterness and have moved forward in lieu of regressing to a point of no return.

No, I don’t blame you. Instead, I am thankful for you and lessons learned. Most of all though, I am thankful I don’t blame you – or myself - anymore.

I don't blame you world.

I don't blame you for what I feel within.

I don't blame you for what I have, or have not, without.

You have received me well.

You have birthed me, and encompass me.

You have allowed me to discover who I am.

You bear me no ill-will.

Your act is not personal.

But then, what do I do, with what I feel within?

With what I have, and have not without?

“I don’t blame you!” the text read. My eyes traversed it over and over, seeming to lose focus with each pass. My chest felt strangely tight.

’I don’t blame you!’ What does that even mean? I thought to myself. Is she angry? Distraught? Confused? Upset? If not me, then who does she blame?

The typing animation popped up again, and my breath seized in my throat. It flickered on and off a few more times before the next message came through.

“Besides, you know you had to do it. It was the right thing.”

Oh, god. She used proper punctuation. She’s pissed. And why did it take her so long to send such a short message? Was she rage-dumping a paragraph and decided it wasn’t worth the energy, or was it a connection thing?

I couldn’t think of what to answer; my thoughts were too loud, and the words wouldn’t form.

I did nothing wrong! All I did was speak my mind. I kept fairly calm, stood up for myself, and made my argument plainly…I think.

So why am I so terrified?!

“You there?”

I suddenly snapped to. Shit! Answer! Say something!

“Yeah,” I replied. “Sry, just sort of trying to process everything”

“Thats fine,” she said. “Just let me kno if u need to talk abt this.”

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT, I screamed, internally. Hadn’t everything been said that needed to be said?

My impulsiveness got the better of me as the day’s events suddenly flooded my brain. Terror began mixing with rage and the ensuing chemical reaction threatened to turn me into a ten-mile crater.

“You know what? I’m kinda done talking,” I typed, read once, and sent. And immediately regretted it.

I waited, staring at the screen, hating myself.

The typing animation danced ominously once more.

“ok,” was all that was sent.

My heart dropped. I had fucked up so many times that day, and this was the icing on the cake. All Kiera was trying to do was help, but I was too dysregulated to realize before snapping at her. I thought about apologizing right away, but the fatigue had already begun to slither its way into my bones. Couldn’t I just—sleep, instead?

The terror-and-rage cocktail still swirled in my head, but now they were wrapping me up in the familiar fog they brought with them—every time.

I leaned back on the bench, turning my face to the sun to try and distract myself. Failing this, I decided I had better get home, or find a rock to crawl under—pretty much anything to get me out of everyone’s field of view. The strangers surrounding me had no idea the kind of day I was having, and I could tell I was just more background noise to them. But do you think the terror-and-rage-and-now-fatigue cocktail cared about that? Of course it didn’t. It siphoned its ingredients from every strange, silent, unknown face all the same.

By the time I returned home my body ached, and my eyes felt dry and heavy. Bag, coat, shoes, phone, hat, all left a trail behind me as I shuffled through the hall to the carpeted section of the living room, where I would fall, crawl, and finally lie staring at the ceiling.

The cocktail swirled, bubbled, and boiled within me. I let myself marinate in it for a while, thought about getting up, and ended up falling asleep instead.

When I woke up, the sunlight stained the walls a deep bronze, and shadows draped everything else in various purples and blues. I rolled over onto my side, the details of the day sloshing around in my head.

So fucking stupid, I thought.

At least the adrenaline had worn off. But I was still limp with fatigue and could tell a headache was on the way.

Grabbing my phone from the floor on my way to the kitchen, I noticed there weren’t any messages from Kiera. I opened up a new text window, hovered my thumbs over the keyboard, and closed the app.

=====

Bronze light became pale yellow, and purples and blues slowly melded together into black. The air was growing cooler, and crickets chirped through the open windows. A stray cloud painted pink and gold by the sunset wandered across the neighborhood on its way to become one with the surrounding atmosphere—whether as a storm or turbulence to some passing airplane, I could only guess.

I hope it becomes a storm, I thought. Seems like a more interesting fate.

…Wish I could become a storm…

All of my shed belongings still lay strewn before the threshold of my door, a barricade from the impending world. I stared at them from the sofa until little trails of their after images began creating strange auras of light.

Leave them for now, I thought. Makes me feel kind of safe, anyway.

=====

The next morning, I dismantled my barricade of things and checked my phone again. Kiera still hadn’t sent any messages, but I felt a bit more clear-headed and decided I could hazard reaching out.

I unlocked the screen, opened the app, and my thumbs hovered over the keyboard once again.

“hey,” I wrote, “sry abt yesterday. I felt like I was going insane. Just…that guy really got to me, saying all that shit like he thought he knew me. I guess I handled it ok, but I’m tired of having to justify and explain myself all the time and my mask just slipped. Sucks u had to see me like that, but there you have it. I hope u dont think I’m mad at you or anything, bc I’m not! I’ll try to tell u next time if I feel like I’m falling off the deep end”

Sent.

“Thats alright!” she responded. “I dont blame u <3”

I don't blame you for not being the person I need you to be. In fact, I understand. I can't be that person for you either. So, basically, we're two sides of the same coin. It's unfortunate because I really thought the older we got, the more we would understand each other. But I can't understand your needs because I'm younger than you and not a mother. You can't understand my needs because you're older, you have a family to worry about, and unfortunately a sister cannot replace the innate need for a mother. There are things I haven't told you because I feel like you won't understand. We both have some trauma and even from the same people. But the results of those traumas are slightly different, and that's why we can't properly comfort each other. I don't blame you for forgetting about me, or leaving when I was too young to understand why. You had to get out, and if the roles were reversed, I would have left too. I don't blame you for relying on me so much, since everyone else we know is super unreliable and untrustworthy. I don't blame you, but you can't blame me either. You can't blame me for needing to walk away, or for growing up and putting myself first for once. After all, you did the same thing, right?

I don't blame you for choosing her, with her generically good looks and a neurotically unstable slew of issues, the reasons she gives to have you chase her to save her. How convenient that she can force you to live inside her pocket by claiming she's just so anxious when talking to you and how she must spend literal weeks preparing for ten minutes on a video chat with you. How can you fault her for suddenly being too timid after months of attention she doled out until you were hooked beyond all reason? You're a carp for the harpy, dangling on her golden hook.

I don't blame you for being the sweet boy you are who believes she's sweetness and innocence and beauty. How does a sheep see wolves when they only come out at night and disappear as quickly as they arrive? So fast that you only see they visited in the morning when the barest scraps remain littered on the ground for you to find and pick the bones of?

I don't blame you for going through heartache that no one can save you from; it is such a common experience that most have encountered, and it's now your turn. The girl on the internet, her colors filled in by your imagination, her lack of interest unnoticed, her life being lived vibrantly in another country, unbothered by the way she keeps you there to give her attention when she wants it. She drew you in, gave you everything you needed to become addicted, pulled it all away, and fed her addiction through yours.

It's such a horrible cycle designed to waste years of your life for nothing but an occasional dopamine hit, and I can't blame you because no one can blame the addict.

"I punched a rat in the face today" a tall and bearded man said loudly and out of turn on the train. Seventeen people his captive audience, just a few looked up to see the face of the man who claimed to punch a rat in the face.

He repeated himself only louder.

"Okay, how did you punch a rat in the face today?" someone asked. The same three people looking at the bearded rat face puncher.

"I woke up and I was wondering if I could... so I did" he smiled.

At this, now half the train is looking at the wanna be, perhaps did punch a rat in the face man for his response.

"But you did not say how" chimed in a new onlooker.

"I woke up and after thinking if I could punch a rat in the face, I went to the local pet store, bought a large feeder rat and told myself if I can punch it in the face I will and if I can not, I won't".

Now nearly all the people on the train from the original announcement of a man claiming to have punched a rat in the face were looking at him.

"How much did you pay for a rat to do this?"

"I paid seven for the Uber to the pet shop, five for the rat, twelve for the McDonald's and I walked home, so like twenty-five bucks."

The whole train is now leering, the doors open and no one gets off- only new people get on the train with the man who woke up and considered punching a rat in the face so he took an Uber to a pet store, had breakfast, got on the train and began the conversation.

"What does McDonalds have to do with anything?"

"I fed it first, like if it had glasses I would have asked him to take them off, but he didn’t and I am not a brutal man, just a curious man so we had McGriddles. Also I know it was male because I picked one with balls."

"So you took a rat into McDon....." someone started and then a very bothered old man in a MAGA hat interrupted "...did you punch the damn rat in the face or not? I have to get off now damnit and I have no idea what you are talking about but I am here so how did you punch a rat you fed McGriddles to after purchasing it, in the face?"

"Which time?"

The train doors open and a woman rushes to her feet "someone take my seat I need to get away from this next part."

A man in a suit, wrapping his mouth around a bit of a McGriddle slides into her seat, listening intently- and as they pass he mumbles with a mouthful "I don't blame you."

I don't blame you for anything I've inflicted upon myself. Driving states away, making the biggest decision of my life, and sleepless nights were all worth getting away from you. I don't blame you even when I want to. The door slams that wake me up at night, the panic attacks where I can hardly breathe, and the time that never seems to pass. Every call, post, and email I've blocked, you always have another way to find me. You know my weak spots and prey on them until I break. I will never break and, still, I will never blame you.

“I don’t blame you.” The words slipped out of my mouth almost as easily as an “I’m sorry“ or a “thank you.” It was too easy and I knew I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it beac it was her fault. She left a stupid cigarette on the stupid counter by the stupid paper towels. She left it there and then went for a walk and my baby brother was still inside. My sister was supposed to be watching him while he napped and the rest of the family ran to the store. She‘s 14 so we thought she was mature enough to handle this task. Turns out she wasn’t. Her friend came over and then they were smoking! I don’t know what is wrong with her. Stupid! I can’t believe she would do this! It’s all her fault! Now she’s sobbing on my shoulder begging me for forgiveness. She didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Of course I told her I forgive her. What kind of monster would I be if I told her it was her fault? I love her and I hate her at the same time. I would hate for her to go through the rest of her life believing that it’s her fault that little Tommy is gone, but at the same time I know that it is her fault. So I lie. I lie to her so that she feels better. I’m sorry for the lie, and I know she means her apology, but I can’t do this right now. I can’t handle feeling sorry for her right now because I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself. I‘m so numb at the moment that I can barely hear the words my sister is sayin. I’m sure she’s making excuses and explaining herself and apologizing over and over, but I can’t handle it. I talk like I’m mad at her, and I am, but the truth is that I will forgive her. I do forgive her. I really do. I don’t blame her. I just need time to heal, and I think time is what we will all need.

I don't blame you.

I swear I don't.

You were just some ones that got away, the three of you, just drifting away from me, diving from a sinking boat at sea

No harm in that

No arm and leg for me, as I drowned in

Something I didn't yet have a name for,

A monster eating up my mind, making me say things, do things, hurt you, hurt me

But at some point along the line you stopped seeing the monster and me

And saw the monster as me

But i don't blame you at all

I just swear

And wish you were still here

April heard a knock at the door, she opened it to find her boyfriend Ben standing there wearing a tired smile:

“Hey Aps”.

“H-hi”. She stammered

“You gonna invite me in or”….?

“Yeah sorry it’s just a shock that’s all”. She replied, opening the door wider to let him in, she closed it behind them and followed him into the living room.

“So when did they release you”?

“Yesterday, mum came to pick me up”.

“I could’ve done that, you should’ve called”!

“You didn’t come once in 5 months April, why would you have come to pick me up”?

She looked down, swallowing a lump in her throat: “I’m sorry”. She whispered.

Ben gave her another soft smile: “It’s ok, I don’t blame you, I know it must’ve been a lot seeing me like that”.

She looked back up at him: “I did write to you every Friday, I never got a reply”.

“I wanted to… I-I tried, but they said it wouldn’t be good for my recovery, every time I picked up the pen I just started crying… and then I’d get worked up coz you weren’t there I just…. I really needed you to hold me”.

April rushed over to him and wrapped him in a tight hug as they both began to cry: “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby, I’m here now, I’m here now baby”. She placed a gentle kiss into his hair. After a few minutes they sat in silence on the sofa holding hands.

“Can I make you some tea”? April asked, finally allowing herself to relax.

Ben shook his head: “I’m ok thanks”. He sighed: “I’m sorry, I promised myself I’d get through this without crying, I just needed to see you that’s all”.

“That’s ok, you can cry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before is it”?

Ben turned to face her fully: “But that’s the point, I’m tired of being weak around you, I-“.

April put a hand to his cheek: “Baby there’s nothing weak about you ok”? “You never have to hide how you feel from me”. April sighed too, pulling back: “I didn’t not come because I thought you were weak or because I was a shamed or scared of you, I just…. I thought you’d hate me, I kept replaying the day they took you away over and over in my head, the way you kept screaming my name, begging me to help you”…. A chill shot through her at the thought,

he took her hand again: “I’ve never hated you for that Ap, I understand that I needed help and I’m glad I got it, I guess I just needed time to process what was going on in my head, and when I finally woke up to reality I finally realised how bad things were getting, how much pressure it was putting on you, you were right to call them”.

“It’s not that I didn’t wanna look after you anymore I just felt so out of my depth”-

“I know, I know”. Ben replied nodding.

“I did want to come, I made all the arrangements multiple times…. I’d get to the front door and picture you in some tiny room curled up in a ball crying your eyes out, I couldn’t stand it”.

Ben gave her a playful smirk, shrugging: “oh I dunno, the room wasn’t that tiny”.

April rolled her eyes but gave him a small smile back:

“It wasn’t so bad toward the end, my mind actually managed to shut up”.

April nodded encouragingly: “That’s good”.

Ben nodded too: “Yeah I got a lot of stuff off my chest, took a lot of walks, even did some art, it was really therapeutic”.

“I’m glad”.

“Me too”.

“Have they put you on medication”?

“Yeah erm, they gave me some anti depressants and anti psychotics, theres this other one I can’t pronounce”. He gave a light chuckle: “Bet I’d rattle if you shook me”.

April smiled back at him again: “So where’s all your stuff”?

“At my mum’s, wanted to see how this conversation played out first before, you know”….

April nodded: “Does she hate me”?

“Nah she understands it was hard for you, she just wished she could’ve been more convincing that’s all”.

“I’m sorry”. April answered

ducking her head again, Ben squeezed her hand causing her to look back up at him: “It’s ok”. “My theorist wants to do a few home visits, they think it’ll help with the transition back into the world”.

April nodded: “Ok, and how do you feel about it”?

“Good, good yeah, you were right before, it definitely helps to talk… do you think…. Do you think you’d like to be there”?

“Am I allowed”

?

“Of course, they said whatever made me feel comfortable”.

April gave him a fond smile: “I’ll be there, so, where’s home for you now”? “Back at your mum’s or”…?

“Whatever you feel comfortable with, I mean.. do you want me to come back”?

“Of course I do”. She wrapped him in another tight hug,

he pulled away a little after a few moments and cupped her cheek: “Oh April I’ve missed you so much”. He admitted softly, stroking her cheek.

“I missed you too”. She whispered back.

“Thank you so much for your letters by the way, I red each and every one of them so many times I can’t even count, you have no idea how much they meant to me”.

“Surprised they didn’t just make you resent me for not being there for you in person”.

“Oh baby, I could never resent you, I love you so much”.

“I love you too”. Allowing her guard to drop completely, she kissed him slowly: “mmm, I forgot how good you taste”.

“I could never forget”. Ben pulled her back in for another long, slow kiss.

April sighed happily: “So tell me, what was your favourite letter”?

“The one you wrote me on Valentine’s Day, it let me know you hadn’t forgotten about me, that you still loved me, I took it with me to bed every night for weeks”.

April blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear: “I’m glad I could still help in some way, I want you to know that I will always love you ok”?

“Ditto”. Ben kissed her again:

“Let’s never be apart again ok”

?

April nodded, giving a hopeful smile: “Deal”.