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A decade later and I still can't let go easily. I've let go of the park in April, the river in winter. I've let go of the people associated, although one will always hold special status with me, and I let go of him rather recently.
I can't let go until I forgive myself, and I cannot yet forgive myself. I've forgiven you your errors, I don't know why I can't forgive mine. Probably because mine cause you pain. I can forgive others causing me pain, but not the other way around. It's worse in this case, because my sins (your sins into me, oh my beautiful one) were so much larger and more frequent. I was dumb dumb dumber than the dirt dirt dirt on the ground. I had something rare and beautiful, and I wasted it. And you had something rare and beautiful, and I wasted it for you, ruined it for you. No wonder you were done done done with all the fuck fuck fucking around. No wonder you want nothing to do with me.
I remember, towards the end, you said something about how we were perfect for each other, or anyway would have been if circumstances were different. I'd had similar thoughts. I didn't understand how you could let circumstances get in the way. Now I do, although not entirely. I was destroying you, without meaning to.
It's in the water baby, it's in the pills that bring you down, It's in the water baby, it's in your bag of golden brown, It's in the water baby, it's in your frequency, It's in the water baby, it's between you and me. It's in the water baby, it's in the pills that pick you up, It's in the water baby, it's in the special way we fuck, It's in the water baby, it's in your family tree It's in the water baby, it's between you and me.
Italics are song snippets:
As far as I can tell, letting go isn't within my power right now. Coexisting with the assload of memories, thoughts and feelings I lug around is as close as I'm going to get. I seem to be doing it, I'm not sure. I realized I don't want to let go. When each of you were my world, the reason I lived life, there's at least a bittersweetness to it. And the bitterness is fading. I should be glad I can close my eyes and I'm with you on the train tracks, in the halls at school, in the park in April, by the river in January. I should be glad I have the best moments of my life at hand to relive. But I also have the screaming, the lonliness, the realization of what we'd done to ourselves and each other. The missing time. The realization that I've consumed enough of this, that, and the other to go to sleep and never wake up, and not caring. If I could do it all over again, I'd have never touched or confessed to one of you. I'd have you around still, as friends. To hear your voice. To enjoy the way your mind works, your humor, your point of view. And for a couple of you, to sneak looks at your ass when you're not looking. No one person completes the other one, with a few exceptions. Pushing all others out to get as close to one as possible is not the way to do it. Either by choice or chance, lonliness is my mortal enemy. I need to be careful. I think I've realized the difference between loving someone and wanting to posess them.