She got a lot of pretty, pretty
boys, that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
-Hotel California

I am a product of absolute regret- this thing that is slowly eating away at the outside of my flesh and being- the things I wished I was are merely hanging from my bones.

I contemplate letters in my mind to you- brilliant letters that beg to be answered- that beg to wonder why everything has gone this way, because you were my first, largest regret. The absolution of us layed the groundwork for things to come. Sometimes I wonder if it’s a dying mother’s wish to get back at the woman who wronged her son- sometimes I think it’s a curse.

If I wrote you a letter on here, publically- would it suddenly disqualify me from bad luck? Would that magical curtain be lifted, and would I be able to relish and celebrate, instead of everynight driving home, and everyday driving to work- seeing the same Huskers sticker, and the same blue eyes and goatee?

We were all stupid at 21. I was a baby, myself. I had no idea what was really important, and had no idea that at 21, you could experience something so powerful, that almost 7 years later, I still sit and wonder, and passionately vow to see the next, “J.” coming.

I hurt someone tonight. I was reckless and irresponsible, and I was naive. I waited for him not to call me, and waited for him to blow me off, so I didn’t feel bad when I stayed out later with friends, and I called and he was in bed. I am not one to break promises, and suddenly- I feel like I’ve had the rug pulled from under me so many times, that I don’t even bother standing anymore- I rest on my knees. But not with him. I pull away harder, and fight harder- for every compliment he gives, or everytime he is late calling- I tell myself that he isn’t you- so why should it matter… I disconnect.

I drive home and I wonder how it would have all been different if we would have said what we were going to do. You would have stopped drinking, and I would have stopped being a bitch about it. We had such a lovely home- I left you because I met someone- and I was scared and I didn’t know what the hell else to do.

I still see him – the man that made me doubt. He calls me once a year and we get together and reminise, we go to dinner and I try to forget.

Everynight- I drive, and I wonder. And it’s not alcohol induced emotion- I wish I could claim this. Because I promise you- for every entry I’ve had in my mind? That has been the most painful, and heartfelt entry I could have written.

To you:
I’m sorry. I’m sorry because you were the first person I ran from. And we had movie moments- and I ignored them. I was stupid, and scared, and so young- I was thinking with the mind of a child that was build on fairytales and parents who I could never make proud enough. For every sticker I see, or every person that resembles you- I die a little. Someone will mention your state, and I cringe. Someone will talk about something you loved, and I want to scream that only you can love that- it’s yours, and no one elses.
I’ve spent the last 3 years mourning you.
I’ve cried myself to sleep when I dumped people- because this vision of you I now have in my head? A saint couldn’t measure up. It’s disgusting and sick- I don’t remember the shit, although I could come on here and read it all- I just remember the way you spoke kindly to me, or the gentleness of your action. You let me be me- you didn’t steal the show, or throw me in a corner to have your moment. You were one of a kind- and I neglected to see that, although- it’s blatantly obvious now.
No one will ever measure up- because I’ve set the bar- so ridiculously high- and I’m constantly angered by the men I meet- because there’s all these levels, and so much disappointment. You lose reality for a while when you mourn what you may, or may not have had.
You’re happy now- and sometimes? (Most of the time,) I’m happy. I imagine you leaving someone else love notes, and speaking with the voice that always calmed me- and I think she is absolutely blessed. I have no desire for you- to come back to me now- I merely want, (in a silly way,) what was- and to understand myself in the process.
I’m sorry about the tests, and Ava. I remember our last conversation- the crying, and the realization that this would be it. It was bittersweet- much like that drive to your sisters- Pearl Jam playing all the way down, and we never spoke a word to each other. I drove back, pregnant, scared and alone- never knowing the truth of the situation.
I have to let you go- because this vision I’ve created of everything is hurting me now- it’s making me pull away from the very good things in my life to chase the things that absolutely don’t matter.
I loved you- and for the first time in my life? Maybe I can acknowledge that -THAT- three years later, is something. It’s always something.
I had such words- I promise you. I’ve had this going in my mind for years. Maybe I should write you- I would say to myself. Maybe I’d find a ridiculous reason to contact you- and it all seemed so stupid. I chase for the glimpses of you- the face, or the habits- the nervous ticks you encompassed. I chase and I regret to see the differences that others bring- and I throw them away.
You were never trash- I was never perfect. There were terrible things on both sides- but I think I’m finally ready to throw my hands up. How many people have I found thinking I’ve found you again- only to be hit or cheated on– how many times must I be betrayed before I realized- what you are now.. is a figment of my imagination.

I keep pulling away from the people that really care- because I want the people that don’t. How many beds will I sleep in until I find my much needed, and much different version of you? It’s not what I’ve wanted- but it’s what I’ve chosen.

I met someone- who I completely clicked with in the beginning. Once it was serious- or felt.. something? I ran. I took off my shoes, and threw them down onto the pavement to move as fast as I could and as sideways as I could- and I met everyone else. I am waiting for him to hurt me. He’s waiting for me to probably make up my mind- and although he’s no where near perfect, and I’m not sure if it’s lasting- it’s something. I didn’t hide away tonight out of fear- which is the ironic thing- it was a misunderstanding that he probably won’t understand.

I cut all my hair off- and I remember sitting in the chair and thinking- what the hell. It was my experiement- could I still feel how I wanted to feel with hair that I couldn’t see myself with? Could that chance dramatically enhance who I wanted to be? Now, I couldn’t see myself without this hair- and I’m evolving- slowly.

So- I was just thinking- If I could acknlowedge this, in my sleepy, alcohol state- that maybe… new leaves would turn over and I could become closer to the person I wanted so much to be.