I am almost done, writing about him.
Writing about this year.
Life keeps going.
I wanna move on... the past only affects me if I let it.
I wanna find reasons to be happy, instead of sad.
I don't wanna waste more time regretting things...
What's done is done.
My conscience wants me to move on, it's just my heart that insists on pointing out every mistake he made, to somehow make me feel better. Like letting it out will make me feel better, but it just reminds me of what he said. I think it's clear... I don't have to repeat it. I think he got it the first time I wrote in my other book.
Letting my anger out only increases it... it only affects me. Resentment only hurts me.
My heart wants him to feel the hurt I feel. It wants him to regret everything he's done or said.
But my conscience knows that he knows what he's done. That's why he wrote me a message, after reading my books. Because he knew that I deserved the truth. He cared to tell me. Even if it wasn't when I wanted to. Because it was years later. It was far too late. But better late than never. He could of left with no explanations.
He cared enough to write a message that probably took him hours or days.
I do recognize the effort.
I know that he cared. I know what he felt for me. Because it's the same love I felt for another friend I've known for years. It's a different love, but love is love. And I know he meant it when he said I was his best friend.
I have a very hard time accepting his actions...
