after I drank a case of you

I've reached a point that I've never reached since my lips met yours. I crumbled slowly in a thousand different ways, and finally, with your silence, I broke.

And when one hits the bottom, the only other way to go is up.

I was angry, truly, but it diminished almost instantly. My heart, once blaming you for every pain I lived with, is now quiet. Everything is finally quiet. In this clearer view, I see I was wrong. I see I hurt you. I see how the hurt you made me feel could have been avoided had I made better choices. I see you never chose someone else over me. I see that I never let us stop, and blamed you for wanting just that. Blamed you for not wanting to see me, when I was the reason you couldn't.

Not that I was unreasonably angry. You could have respected us a bit more than you did, however non-official our relationship was. You could have waited out the pain like I tried to instead of letting someone else into your bed. But it was my anger, my pride, that kept me from letting you know how I felt. It was my fear that put her there in the first place.

I'm not all better. I still think of you every day, every romantic moment, every ending of a movie. I still almost text you, keeping a list of drafts in my phone of how I miss your warmth. It's getting better, though. I don't look for your car driving up my driveway anymore. I'm not tempted to offer you temporary satisfaction. I couldn't stand to disappoint you ever again.

My only regret is the hurt that I caused, and that will never go away. I won't forgive myself for that, but I forgive myself for everything else.

Thanks for the best time of my life.