This is, at this point in my life, the hardest thing I have ever tried to write. I don't really know where to begin with this other than to preface it with that.

That, and I don't expect this to change your opinion about me. I have no reason to think you'll ever see this, but one day, you might. maybe it can explain one or two things as to why I did what I did. Maybe you won't think so horribly of me in time. I don't expect this to make a lot of sense right away to anyone, ever.

I always thought that love is earned, never given. and that sometimes you may have to suffer for it. I like to think I was good at that - suffering well, to prove I was worthy of the sweetest fruit.

But I'm not worthy anymore.

I've become unfit to champion that cause.

I've been a lot like a child who is acting out: Any kind of attention is better than no attention. it seemed to be the only way I could get you to respond with any sense of passion with me. it wasn't the good kind of attention that I once had, but it was _something_. most other times I wouldn't hear a peep from you and that really bothered me because I thought I had meant something to you. I tend to not recognize the effects that time has on relationships because I spend so much time trying to fight to keep it alive. I'm also very particular. I didn't want some half-assed, quasi-state where there was no clear future, I wanted the former glories. I wanted that day in my room where you first said the three words that changed everything.

after all this time I still held hope that one day, I could come thundering back to Rockford, back to you, and to a life where I was no longer ignored or alone. I thought that was what I had moved up there for - to close the distance between us, to be together once more, unfettered by our responsibilities down here.

but that didn't happen. there were laid out by someone who effectively controlled our relationship who didn't like me because I wanted to do something special for you. there, the seeds of resentment found a perch.

I think we were still able to be saved, even after that long February night where I did nothing but fuck up with you. I didn't show it, I know. the fighting became worse and worse. something inside me was feeding my insecurities and I lost sight of things and lost it with the constant "can we please talk this over?" and "please come over" texts, once you got a car.

after you broke up with me in April, I hoped you would stop me from leaving after my lease was up. I hoped you would say "No, don't go. things are bad right now, but give it time, it can happen." I wanted my moving up there to have mattered enough that maybe... fuck. I dunno. I wanted it to matter enough that it would have saved us somehow. it didn't. I spent the last two months up there just wanting to crawl into the shower and open a vein. I felt that much of a failure and felt that I mattered that little anymore.

and I still felt like it too, when I did come home, by the muted goodbye you gave me. I left sooner than I even planned. but really... you were done with me and ready to start moving on so it seemed. I started to feed upon my anger and resentment as I had no other feelings to feed upon. Compassion, Love and other "good" emotions lied to me. hate and rage at least was honest with me.

lines of communication became sparse to non-existent. after several instances of being verbally smacked down by you for stupid shit I said... I watched. I watched like I did before when I was up there and you weren't there, wanting so much to figure out the puzzle that was you. wanting to keep some kind of connection to you. needing to know how you were doing. hoping, still, that you'd say "come back". I hoped the very same thing when I came back up there nearly a year later. I hoped, once again, that what you once said was true - that at the core, there was still a chance.

all this time. you seemed to be doing just a little bit better and better with each passing day. and there was the problem. when you were down here, I had purpose. I was needed. if I was not needed, then there was no reason for someone who's life was getting better and better without me in it to ever want me back, especially if mine was growing more dim with the very same passing days. and that, they were. I went on a long trip out west to the ocean once more to try to forget the present, only to take home memories of how this would be so much better with you in my arms, watching the sun set over the bay, breathing in the cool sea air. I was missing you, still. there was no denying that.

this long and as im sure, most likely pointless recap bring to question Why?Why did I lash out once more? What made me bring the daggers out and start stabbing you?

Because you're happy without me, and I hate everything about this life without you.

nothing excuses the way I have acted the last few days, and there's no apology I can type, write or say that that you'll believe that makes up for what I've done at this point, the only path I can take now is to accept this and stay out of your life. for good. I really hate the fact it came to this, but I have no one to blame but me.

So, do what you must to keep me out.

I don't have to wish you luck - you'll make your own. you've survived a everything life has thrown at you it is, and you have good people you can count on. you're going be fine.

Goodbye, Sparky.

I love you.