September 6th, 2011

Dear B,

Sometimes I think about what might happen if we meet again five, ten, maybe even twenty years down the road. I imagine all sorts of scenarios, each more sickening than the last.

As much as I hate to admit it, I usually picture you confessing what a mistake you made and how you never expect me to forgive you. I picture you saying that you would love a second chance. What would I say? I like to think that I would turn you down, but I don't know that I would. I'm not sure that I could.

Rarely do I think about meeting you later when either of us is with someone because I can't imagine being able to trust anyone again. That leaves the possibility of me being alone and running into you with someone new. That hurts like a knife twisting in the wound it has made. It infuriates me, the simple thought of you with someone else.

This scares me because it must mean that I don't want you to be happy. Am I that petty? Perhaps I just like to think that you've been as scarred by this as I have. I don't like the thought of you being happy with somebody else while I stay alone, unable to commit, unwilling to suffer the possibility that someone else will do what you did to me. The unfairness of that scenario makes me want to scream.

Maybe I do actually hate you. I don't want to, but I can't seem to help it. Kind of like loving you.

K