you never tried to explain. this is the first time you've ever told me anything; and maybe this is my fault, but I wrote you a proposal, in the best words I could possibly think up, and I knew you'd read it, and I thought--I thought you said yes, but I was never wholly sure; and I asked Tom to date me months after you were going with Gil--and, God, when did I ever say it was too soon to talk to you? For God's sake, I never talked to you, I think obviously I should have, but I never did, I never called you again after that and said God what happened?--I don't remember this, I don't at all. I wasn't scaling you back--I was trying to do something which in me felt like getting over a breaking up I hadn't realised was even remotely imminent. I thought you'd wanted me, thought I'd found out you didn't, and I thought I was dropping back and nursing my wounds and trying not to be hurt by your happiness, because I wanted you to be happy but I wanted you to be happy with me but I thought for you to be happy was the most important part, and if you were I wasn't going to ruin it or interfere with it by being the psycho ex or the bitter ex or the ex who makes you feel guilty by being sad all the time about you (and feeling like I couldn't even be permitted to apply that word to myself because you'd never been with me, I thought, even though I'd thought we were--).
I didn't know that I hadn't been clear. I didn't know what you wanted, so I never acted it for you: that's my fault, that's not a blame, it's just an explanation or a statement or something. I wanted you to be happy; I thought you were with me; I thought you were with Gil; I thought that was how it should be. And then I tried to pick up my pieces and accept it; and I realised that every time I wrote to you I started crying and didn't know what to say, and I thought maybe it would be better if I didn't write. And maybe I should have told you that. Should I have told you that? But I didn't: statement two. And then I felt very unlovable and very cold and very lost for a very long time, and then Tom made me feel like maybe I was lovable actually and that was very wonderful, and he's sweet and clever and funny and I had a crush and it was good to be happy. And my therapist was abusive (I don't know whether you've read my entries, I don't know whether you know that, but she was very verbally abusive) and I got very worse and when we were all in D.C. I missed you so much and I wanted you there and I wanted everything the way it used to be, but I thought Kylee is happy, dammit, I thought that's what matters and I didn't say anything. I never said anything because I thought that was the right thing to do. Not because I was trying to manipulate you, or push you away, but because I thought it would hurt you if you knew I was upset.
Because when I first met you, you weren't happy. And I wanted you to be happy more than anything else in the world, and I thought, if she's happy, then that's the way it should be, and I didn't want to get in the way of it. Because I hurt very much, and because I felt dismissed (just flirting, I felt absolutely dismissed), and I wanted to yell and cry and tell you how hurt I felt, but I was too afraid to make you unhappy. So I didn't talk to you at all: statement three, and I know it wasn't the right thing to do, because obviously there would have been so much less misunderstanding and everything would have been clearer and maybe I wouldn't have tucked everything inward for so long, or forced you to do the same. But that's what I did.
I wanted things to be okay for both of us, but most importantly you.
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I didn't know that I hadn't been clear. I didn't know what you wanted, so I never acted it for you: that's my fault, that's not a blame, it's just an explanation or a statement or something. I wanted you to be happy; I thought you were with me; I thought you were with Gil; I thought that was how it should be. And then I tried to pick up my pieces and accept it; and I realised that every time I wrote to you I started crying and didn't know what to say, and I thought maybe it would be better if I didn't write. And maybe I should have told you that. Should I have told you that? But I didn't: statement two. And then I felt very unlovable and very cold and very lost for a very long time, and then Tom made me feel like maybe I was lovable actually and that was very wonderful, and he's sweet and clever and funny and I had a crush and it was good to be happy. And my therapist was abusive (I don't know whether you've read my entries, I don't know whether you know that, but she was very verbally abusive) and I got very worse and when we were all in D.C. I missed you so much and I wanted you there and I wanted everything the way it used to be, but I thought Kylee is happy, dammit, I thought that's what matters and I didn't say anything. I never said anything because I thought that was the right thing to do. Not because I was trying to manipulate you, or push you away, but because I thought it would hurt you if you knew I was upset.
Because when I first met you, you weren't happy. And I wanted you to be happy more than anything else in the world, and I thought, if she's happy, then that's the way it should be, and I didn't want to get in the way of it. Because I hurt very much, and because I felt dismissed (just flirting, I felt absolutely dismissed), and I wanted to yell and cry and tell you how hurt I felt, but I was too afraid to make you unhappy. So I didn't talk to you at all: statement three, and I know it wasn't the right thing to do, because obviously there would have been so much less misunderstanding and everything would have been clearer and maybe I wouldn't have tucked everything inward for so long, or forced you to do the same. But that's what I did.
I wanted things to be okay for both of us, but most importantly you.