I’m sorry.

I whisper this to my mirror every day, hoping that you might hear. It’s cowardly. I know. But I love you and you won’t even look at me. You can’t. You can’t even bear to look at yourself.

And I hate that I made you this way. Hate that I turned someone so strong and brave into a shell of whom he used to be. I just never believed that I meant so much to you; so much that the stupid words I’d uttered in anger would tear out your soul.

I’m sorry.

I’m not worth anything, least of all your tears. Yet you cry every day, as if wishing to drown in them; hoping to drown with your sorrow. And no matter how many times people tell me that it’s okay, that people make mistakes, I’ll never believe them. And no matter how many times I hear your haggard whispers of forgiveness, I’ll never forgive myself; because I lost you.

I lost the only man I’ve ever loved. The only man I’ll ever love.

I’m sorry.

The End

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