I’m sorry.
I wanted to tell you that.
It seems that there are a lot of things I want to tell you. But foremost in my mind is this;
I’m sorry.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone, tear any family apart, destroy any relationships... I didn’t want to lose hope. I didn’t want to give in, and yet...
I’m sorry.
Everything I am wants to tell you that. Walk up to you and say, “I’m sorry.” I want to walk up and tell you my name, introduce myself, know your reasons. But I can’t. I am afraid. I’ve been copping out. I’m foolish, and I’m not proud of it. I wish this had gotten off to a better start, but it didn’t.
I did not know a hug could hurt someone so much... for that, I am sorry. I did not know that I was too old. I did not know that I was not the kind of person you liked. I did not know, until it was too late. I’m sorry for that as well.
I’m not going to impose myself, force myself on anyone. I am not going to be a regular teen-aged boy. I am not going to try and hurt someone, or do something that my family and friends would not approve of.
I am sorry. If I said it fifty more times, would that make it any better? I am lost, and confused. What is wrong with me? Please forgive me... I wanted to be a shoulder to cry on, but now it seems I cry on my own shoulder more than others.
If you hate me, I understand. If you could and would banish me to a far away place, so that I would never be seen again, I would understand.
If I died, would you sleep better at night? If you would, then I would understand.
I’m crying now. But even now, it feels that these tears are not good enough, not perfect enough to tell you how I feel. Even without trying, I have become something painful. I have become a wound that will not heal.
Please forgive me. Please, do not hate me. I love her, and I would love you, if you would but let me.
Sincerely,
Alex