... Prolouge...

A lot of people have always tell me to forget the past. It's naturally, a part of this newfangled "release the pain" methods people have read about in magazines to overcome divorces and handle the financial fallout. I understand how important burying your issues is in order to see the world in a new light. In fact, i've reccomended it quite a few times in my life, but whenever someone gives me this same solid advice, I want to punch them in the face and trample the offender into a goey mush of nothing.

I have massive anger issues, but my anger in those situations, i believe, are perfectly reasonable. The past, at least my own, is all I've ever had. No matter how many times you tell a story, in a fairytale you manage to tweak it juust a bit so the prince isn't actually some jackass in tin foil and the princess isn't some coked out whore living a cheap, 60 dollar fantasy for the night. Memories are not so forgiving. Like the time my mom asked me not to try and juggle the apples, and I did just so because she wasnt in the room? Every time I recall it, she isn't emerging from her shower to cut the apple for me, asking if i'm hungry.

She is going to do as she did back then, and that is to rush out of the bathroom when she hears me drop the apples, grip my arm and backhand my mouth until i'm crying. Maybe that's why this is just so hard to tell. I can't possibly look like the good guy in this and no matter how many times I describe my needs and insecurities, no one will ever truly see what I saw and do what I did. They'll just calmly assert this could never happen to them and no one will be able to question their belief in their own morals, but will scathingly judge my own.

Maybe it's wrong to ask for leniency. Perhaps I don't desserve it, not after what I did. I'm not going to sit here and pretend to be innocent, because I know I was not. Not all love's forms can be innocent. They can smother you in over affection. They can threaten your heart with the vague but ever persistent fear that your husband is dating the secretary. They can even force you to decieve the ones you care about. Love is truly, like any other addiction, and I can't find any more words to say about it than that.

Except perhaps, that as hard and trying that love can be, your first love is the sweetest thing that you will ever come across. I know mine was, despite who wrong it was, despite how it all ended. If he ever reads this, I hope he understands. I really never meant for any of this to happen.