i wish i didn't feel obligated to do this, and i wish i knew if i was picking at old wounds by doing so. do you read them? delete them on sight? or maybe you just ignore that email account altogether, and there's six or seven years of christmas emails from me sitting in there, unread, unnoticed. i hope it doesn't hurt, if you read them. but i think it bothers you more that i hope and wish for things related to you, i imagine you just want me to move on completely, to forget about you entirely, to stop stop stop all this nonsense. i imagine us both with this same gaping hole in our lives, this great inner sadness that lurks and lingers and occasionally wells up to swallow us whole; i picture our mutual searches for love, as we try to forget what could never be. and i see you, unable to let go because i cannot let go. i imagine us both caught in a web; when i move, it hurts you, and when i don't move, it hurts me. it feels as though i've doomed us both, and that is the guilt i will never live down. i loved too much, i loved too hard, i smothered and crushed and drained the life from you, all in the name of love, love, love.
if i could do it all again, i wouldn't do it at all, except i'd do it all the same, because i'd get just as caught up, and feel just as unstoppable, like a movie where you know the ending but try to scream at the actors, no, don't, stop... this is torture, and i do it to myself, just me, me and no one else. i would stop doing this to us every year, just stop sending the letters, but i need it. i don't know why, but i need it.
everything reminds me of something about you, i'm sorry if that hurts to hear, i'm sorry for being sorry, i'm sorry...
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