The road was all that was clear.
I am sorry I let you walk away without saying goodbye. For letting you crumple into a heap by the door as though you could make yourself small enough to slip under it. For stuffing your emotions into a little Roman candle and then standing there, taunting you with a lighter. For telling you that you were alone in all that. For convincing you that you should not trouble anyone else with your fears.
But this is a shitty apology because I don’t mean it. Sorry, not sorry.
You were too caught up in trying to do everything for others. Too caught up in having them tell you how you felt. Too afraid of their judgment and rejection. So while a nuclear option seems so completely absurd from this angle, that’s what you were capable of then. You hadn’t gathered a toolkit to wrangle your emotions yet. They were prone to seep and coagulate at just the wrong moment. You needed the freedom to find yourself.
So yea, I’m not sorry that I lit the fuse, but I am sorry I couldn’t convince you that you would make it.
Thanks for getting here anyways.