I don't understand
I love her as I do because she is unpredictable, because I don't understand her; but I had no idea how she would react to anything. She was the last person I ever wanted to hurt.
Let me try to describe it to you, E2:
We were once together, two balls of insecurities tangled up in each other. We were different in every way we could care to think of, barring that we'd both played SimAnt when we were kids. But somehow it worked. Time spent; my first kiss, someone to love.
I still loved her; and I think that she still loved me. For some reason we were apart, though; we dissolved as serenely and wordlessly as we had come together. That was how I thought of it; we were apart, no matter how much we still felt to be together.
So, seemingly, did she; there was talk of finding other people, that we could never find anyone as great as each other (though I regret to say that for my part, I didn't actually verbalise this feeling, being the emotional retard/emotionally independent person I am). I tried to find someone else; I thought it would be something that would help, but in the long run, I failed more bitterly than I could ever imagine.
But even in the short run, there I failed also. On what was more or less a whim, against what, for the lack of another term, constituted my better judgment after 36 hours without sleep, I got involved with a girl at a party; a crush from the summer. With the benefit of hindsight, the situation sounds almost so cliché that I'd forgive you for hurling obscenities at my stupidity now, but the thing about hindsight is that it's only available in the future.
This... casual romantic episode didn't really work out, in the end. I cut my losses, tried to work some way out whereby the person involved could remain a friend, and subsequently pretty much gave up the whole game of trying to find someone new. I didn't relate what had happened to her (the 'her' being the omnipresent She in my life); I don't normally share what goes on in my life or my head with people, and I was kind of embarrassed about the idiotic way I'd handled the entire thing.
It crossed my mind that it might piss her off; but I thought that since we weren't attached anymore to each other, the mores of fidelity didn't, well, apply anymore... and maybe that's true, I don't truly know, having very little experience in the entire relationship business.
But when I'm honest with myself it doesn't matter a damn whether the mores apply, or whether I was justified in not telling her about it, or whether I should have done it at all. Whatever I did, anyone did, matters not a fuck. The only thing that matters is that she was hurt, and I did it to her. Christ, I am such an idiot. It took me hours to even realise what I had done to her. And by then I had only hurt her more.
But I hurt her, badly. A friend of hers said that she'd lost that "never-been-hurt innocence", and that she'd never get it back. And it's entirely my fault.
I don't know what good this is doing, to tell E2 about it; telling a world that doesn't care, or know who I am; who I'm not even real for; who'll never say anything in return, even though I tell this to everyone.
Why don't I tell this to someone who cares, someone to whom it might make a difference? Because whenever I talk to her, everything I say is wrong. I'm at the stage when I'm afraid to say anything because it will just make her hate me more. I wish I could tell her that I fucked up, but that I never wanted to hurt her. Or maybe that's worse, wounding out of ignorance rather than out of malice. But she really was the last person I ever wanted to hurt. If she ever reads this, I'm sorry.