My Fault

Oh, I remember that empty night.

I remember it as the night of realization, the moment I realized what I had done. You may have lied, stabbed me in the back, gossiped, tricked, persuaded and shredded any confidence I had, but I let you. I let you push me into a never-ending pit. A pit of slick walls without handholds. Darkness that didn't just drown me. The emptiness ripped me apart, inside out, destroying what I was, revealing to me what I threw away.

You made it seem like a game. Why did this game leave me stranded before I reached the finish line? Why did this game slap me across the face every time I made a mistake? Why did this game provide me with no means of redemption?

This game wasn't a game at all. It was a torture chamber. A blade prepared to dive into my heart.

And it was my fault.

It hurt not because of what it was, but because of what it wasn't. It wasn't the joyful me that I had always been. I wasn't the optimistic, determined person who I had grown up as. I made excuses. I lied to myself. I experienced pain.

Pain I inflicted myself.

Even now, I exaggerate. I was never physically harmed. I was never starved. I was never enslaved. An exaggeration of this mind game I played with myself.

Were you even there? I see you so often and instead of blaming you, I blame myself. Who I am to judge someone just like me? Someone who made mistakes?

So I forgive you. And I forgive me, too. You shouldn't have done what you did. But I shouldn't have, either. It goes both ways. It will always go both ways. I know it's my fault, too.

As I remember that empty night, I wish I had realized all this sooner. That we were friends at some point. That should be what matters. What happened, happened. So what do you say? Truce? Start over? Pretend nothing happened?

Whatever works for you. Because I still love you, old friend, even though I don't understand you. Good luck on your travels.

May you fill your empty nights with love.