This is my attempt to let go, to forgive me.

This always starts out as a letter to you and ends up a letter to myself as well. Truth is I don’t have many broken connections in my lifetime. But of the few, you are one…and one that bothers me greatly. My subconscious beats me up with you at least once a month – more frequently, once a week.

I don’t know why I have allowed myself to fixate on making this connection. On healing something you don’t even know exists for me. Or maybe you do know because I’ve reached out to tell you on occasion. I can only assume you’ve rejected the attempts because I am a nothing to you.

My waking mind understands. My sleeping mind does not.

All I can figure in regards to my need for a peaceful connection here is this:

I interacted with you at a time in my life where I was so absent from my truths – I didn’t know myself. I wish around you I had been different. I wish that some of my reasons for acting had been clearer to me at the time. I wish we had been friends. I wish that I had been friends with myself and made friendships based on the real me and not the front that I put on.

You happen to be one of the people I know I purposely acted out against in my struggle to find myself. And I hate that. And I think somewhere in me I believe we would have been friends.

It doesn’t matter to you, no. But it does to me.

So, this is my apology either not received or unaccepted. Yet, as I start to write it I realize that it is as much to me as it is to you.

I am sorry that I acted the way that I did to you simply because I didn’t know me. I’m sorry I fought for something that I didn’t even care to have – when really a friendship with you would have been more satisfying. I’m sorry that this is pathetic and prolonged – existing 15 years after we even saw each other last.

I’m sorry that my mind does this to me and I can’t move on from it. That it carries so much meaning. That a portion of my worth is defined by it - that it consumes me and doesn’t really matter much at all.

I don’t even like looking back on these words because they don’t make much sense in the context of who I am, but they are true.

This is my attempt to let go of something that doesn’t really exist in the first place. This is my attempt to forgive me in my youth, and quite possibly even now.