Love letter # 204

Because I was hurt, I tried to hurt you. Because my pride was punctured, I tried to shoot holes in yours. I sought respite from my pain in anger, and an answer to all my tormenting questions in the vicious conspiracy of hindsight. Yet in the end, all these things simply added up to the fact that I loved you. At least in my own childish way.

Sorry for venting my inadequacies at you – for digging beneath your skin for what could only be found in my bloodstream. Sorry too that I prised apart your defences in order to bolster my own. I was a coward in the face of my own feelings, and I sought to have you pay the price.

I do not say these things in order to appropriate your forgiveness – for perhaps I am undeserving of such grace. Rather, I say them in order that you know.

It may be of little consequence to you, but if you will permit me one last act of vanity, I will take back the sins that are mine and return to you the beauty and the kindness that are yours.