A tale with two tails

I guess that we only ever see that all the people we’ve hurt were too good for us at that time once we realise that we’re too good for that one that hurt us. 
I know the sorry is too late. Explanations won’t change things. Reasons won’t fix this. There is no way any words will ever be enough. And I’ll probably never mean them near enough to mean anything. 
The truth is ugly, nobody wants to face it. 

Sometimes you just don’t appreciate the people that love you enough because you’re longing for someone else, something bigger, waiting for something more than what you’ve got. 
It’s stupid. 
It’s human. 
Even the kindest people do it.

The most gentle hearted ones of us have the faculty to destroy others in cold blood.  

With or without intent. 

With or without awareness even.
Sometimes because we can’t see what’s right in front of our nose. 

Sometimes because we are just as twisted as deep within the darkest corners of our brains we always feared we might be. 

Sometimes simply because life changes and emotions fade.


All I ever wanted was for you to see that I’m worth your time. Now I know that you were never worth mine in the first place.
I hate that only in the face of yours i see my own cruelty clearly. 

I hate that only now I realise what I’ve done. Who I can be. What I’m capable of. 
I hate myself for the pain I’ve caused. The elusiveness. The promises I made that I never really thought meant anything real to anyone. Not to you and certainly not to me. Not in the long run anyway. They were but dreams said out loud. Wishes shrouded in intent. I wanted them to be true at the time because I wanted you and I to mean something to me. For us to be that bigger thing I knew we weren’t. To be what I waited for. To be the depiction and not reality.
I know it means nothing, but I am sorry.
I know that my desire for atonement is selfish and triggered by my own hurt more than any of the hurt I’ve cause. I know I can be cruel now only because you were my mirror. The ugly reflection that keeps me up at night. tortures me. I know I will heal. I hope I will be better. I want to be better. I know I will be better.
But even now this confession is a tale with two tails. The sorry and the be sorry. The victimiser and the victim in all of us. The reckless and the wreck. 
I know you won’t ever think I’m the bigger thing, the something else, the someone more. 

I know I’ll eventually stop thinking that we were that thing worth fighting for. I’ve already stopped trying. I’m no longer waiting for you to change your heart. 


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