Number two and beyond

This would be my second apologetic post. I did think about starting a new tag called “apologies” but that would be rather sad on my part. Plus, I am hoping I do not have many people to apologize to. In any case, my memories on this are not as clear as when I wrote other stories, so bear with me…

Sometime around middle school or high school, where my adolescent foolishness was my guiding light in life, I got to know her. To be honest, I never really took much notice of her initially. She was just somebody I barely knew, but then, I heard the news that her father passed away.

Death was an unfamiliar guest to me, but I had in mind that it would be something difficult to go through. I wanted to be extra mindful of her, but as I got close, I was not controlled enough. I began to meddle around the fine line between friendship and relationship. What started as simple acts of kindness turned into selfish affections that had on the mask of some worthless feelings of heroism; I told myself that I was simply trying to lead her back towards God, but I was only trying to be some knight in shining armor.

I still remember the night before I had to fly back to America. We shared a moment, and as soon as I sent her back home, I felt terrible about it. I felt terrible about that fact that I had crossed the line, which in itself is nothing bad, but I knew in my mind that I did not want such intimacy. I did not want the responsibility, but I had never actually asked what she wanted of me. I doubt that she expected much anyways. Maybe all she wanted was just somebody to open up to. Nevertheless, I never bothered to truly understand who she was and what she wanted. I selfishly diagnosed the situation myself and decided that I wanted no part in it. I pushed her away quite heartlessly. 

I tried to make some amends after the fallout, but to no avail. It was probably because I did not try still to understand her. I simply wanted to be rid of the guilt and perhaps be able to completely forget she ever existed.

Most of my flings seemed to be such as this: initial contact, growing intimacy, a certain climax and then fear. To be honest, I still do not know what is truly down in my heart. As for now, the best answer I could give is that I was afraid of intimacy as it would reveal who I truly am. I recalled the times when I gave it all and was rejected. Maybe it was the collection of such memories that had me so afraid.

Then again, meditation and deep thoughts are rather dangerous. They seem to amplify matters that are insignificant. The more I read what I wrote, the stupider I feel. All of this seems so trivial, so distant like a dream of a summer night in midwinter.

Maybe I just did not like her.

Sometimes I worry that a psychologist would read all of these posts and analyze what goes through my head and categorize me. At the end of the day, I just wanted to say that I am sorry I never understood, but as I close my eyes, I picture myself walking towards the light. Upon golden stairs through golden doors, I feel peace. It is something that is waiting in my near future. That is why I move on, carrying a bittersweet smile. Here is the note I will leave behind.