Monday, 18 November 2013

To my last friend,

I thought about the impossible task I was faced with. I had done everything in my power to succeed, but only a fool would have carried on as the odds were completely against me. All had been set up from the very start to go wrong, and there was no time, day or night, that I could rest without thinking about the situation I had become trapped in, and the futility of my efforts. Society did not want me, and could no longer abide by me, because I was at the brink of my truth being discovered.  I did not want to set my world alight, to watch it burn because of the sister I had come to love too much.

I was not weak but I could not cope. I pleaded that I was not a weak person. I used to be so good at denial, so good at forgetting. I could no longer put aside the loss of any moral standing that I’d had; I should have preserved my innocence, but instead I took a bite out of the apple, and it turned bitter in my mouth. I had thought I had known what it was to be loved by her, and to love her in return, but I was wrong.

All I ever wanted since the last bad day was to take everything back and start again. All I wanted to do was reach out and pull time into my chest, to make it young again, like an infant who belongs to their parent. But time never wished to stay; time only wanted to grow up and leave and find a place of its own where it could be out of my control.

I wrote this to myself because I wanted to remind myself why I was going where I was going, and why I was going to do what I was going to do. I wanted these thoughts to be racing through my mind as I took hold of every thread in my life and tied them all into one neat knot.
I did not know why I was brought into a world that was starved of love, but where my love was unwelcome.

The times I had loved and been loved I could no longer bear to think of again.

All that was left to be done was to give my apologies, and so for every grave mistake I was sorry, and I hoped that one day my memory would be so far in the past that she would no longer be able to count out my faults.

Yours faithfully


Jon

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