The Email I Should've Sent A Year Ago

I had no idea I'd be writing this. Now not. Not always in the end. However, there are times when silence becomes more burdensome than words, and speaking, even when it is too late, is the only way to lighten the load. Over a year has passed since our last conversation. It's amusing how time progresses but leaves some things behind. like shame. like recollections like the phrases that I never used. The last time we were together, I can recall. You were trying not to cry while cross-legged in front of the coffee shop window. I acted like I didn't notice. My words were calculated, and my voice remained cold. At least that's what I told myself. I was protecting myself. In reality, I was only afraid. fearful of making a mistake. fearful of being vulnerable. apprehensive that revealing my errors would make me seem insignificant to you. However, I wasn't perfect for you. You required sincerity. I needed to be there for you, not with arguments or pride, but with presence. You needed that. I also did not. So, the email I ought to have sent a year ago is here: I apologize. I apologize for speaking up when you needed comfort. I sincerely apologize for making you feel like your emotions were excessive. I apologise for acting as though I knew everything when in reality I was just afraid to face myself. You were correct. You were correct about my tendency to avoid actual conversations. When you said that I only listened to respond, not comprehend, you were correct. Additionally, you were absolutely correct when you stated that I was unable to express my regret without providing an explanation. But there are no justifications this time. only the truth You gave someone so much of yourself—your time, your energy, and your heart—that they couldn't even properly express their gratitude. And when things went wrong, I quietly convinced myself that I had been hurt and let you take the blame. Perhaps I was. However, that did not grant me permission to hurt you back. I miss your chuckle. the manner in which you used to check in on me even when you were worn out. The fact that you valued me more than I valued myself. I treated you like a battlefield because you were my safe haven. I often wonder what would have transpired if I had simply stated, "I was wrong." Would our friendship continue? Would we still be healthy? I'm not sure. And I guess I will never. However, I am not writing for a response. Even though it is late, I am writing this because you deserve to hear it. even if we do not speak again. More than just a moment, you were. Not just a lesson. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner; you were love in motion. I hope all is well with you. I hope you are surrounded by people who are present, attentive, and caring in the same way I should have been. I hope you have found peace, the kind where you can breathe freely without making excuses. I still have a lot to learn. Continually making an effort to be the kind of person who apologizes without ego. Still attempting to be more gentle, considerate, and present. That is what your absence taught me. Additionally, I am grateful for that lesson. I wouldn't try to win the argument if I could go back. I would say, "I hear you," while holding your hand. I'm present. Also, I'm sorry." But because I can't go back, I'll say it now, with the same sincerity I couldn't find back then: I apologize. I wish you every conceivable happiness. Always.