I didn't mean to.

I imagine pushing a tack deeper into one of your toes and asking “does it hurt?” with the innocence of a 4 year old. True, I was oblivious of whatever storms were passing you that time or any of the ones I must've put you in.

I simply cannot comprehend the degree of what I’ve inflicted on you. Maybe I was busy with my artistic debut or just plain out of sorts that time to think love thoughts. I wasn’t in love with you but I saw a familiarity in your frame that fostered in me some hope for new, meaningful companionships, yes, “companionship”; ends in a large oceangoing vessel like what jack and rose had but just not the same.

And the question about my evident self-indulgence in our conversations: did I really talk about myself too much? I remember giving long answers to your questions. I figure you weren’t worth the monosyllabic version of me with a thought bubble saying “can somebody please rescue me?”

You hate me. Just like a number other people who used to like me whom I didn’t like back the way they wanted me to. Forgive me, most times I really do get lost in my thoughts, for minutes to months, and that was the worst crime I committed against you.

Of course, that’s my opinion. Nice blog by the way.