I'm Sorry

I owe you an apology. I should have never reached out. At the time, I couldn't possibly see what an always position that might put you in. I never would have thought of it, until I was on the receiving end. 

Don't get me wrong, I love when people reach out. I'm not saying I don't. I'm a strong believer in timing being everything. Something that was a disaster a year ago could seem like a miracle now. Or sometimes, out works the opposite. Connections that are meant to find a way will always find a way. Connections that are meant to fizzle out like stars before falling to the atmosphere and burning up. 

I should have realized our lives were too different. I didn't really have anything to offer you. 

When I reached out last, I was in the middle of intense therapy. I acted outside of my own best interest, even prompting my therapist to ask why I reached out. I couldn't give her an answer at the time. I didn't know why I reached out. 

Over the last two years of introspection, and the past three months proving it all wrong, I think I have an answer now. 

I already wrote (somewhere) that I think a part of me wanted to get to know you to write you in a more accurate light. I didn't know this project was in the back of my head subconsciously, but I think I did at the same time. I think I had a feeling I'd have to go through these feelings in order to move on. The only way out is through and all that. 

No one will ever love me like Bob Dylan and I never expected them to. But I can't deny there are certain people I wish reciprocated the way I felt. Some good, some bad. There are some people I wish would disappear and others I wish would manifest. At the end of the day, I know you're on the opposite side. Our lives are too different. 

But I would have liked to include you in the writing process. I would have liked your feedback. Your criticism. Your input. I would have liked to paint the most accurate version possible. Instead, I had to create you. 

You can't blame me for falling in love with my own creation. I made you perfect in every way. I had no other basis. 

I know you think I stalk you online, but I don't. Every so often, curiosity strikes me. I do that with everyone though, from every period of my life. I've just learned not to reach out anymore because it always seems to bring more confusion than answers. I never want to be the reason a person is suffering like this. 

I like to make sure everyone has a very real image of me in their heads. I don't falsely advertise by using enhanced photos. I don't even edit my videos. If I can't do it in one shot then it doesn't need to be said. Let's see if that statement holds up over time or ages like milk. The point is: I'm honest to a fault. 

Yet, my insecurities let me lie to myself all the time. Isn't it funny how that works?