You were  someone I wanted to be with and no one else.  I wanted to be with you alone.  

I wore my favorite belt and my trouble with the belt ended once it was gone with the garbage.  I regret ever having thrown away my favorite belt for you and your issue.  It was my favorite belt and nothing more.

I wanted to make new memories with you.  There was no dwelling on the past except that which you had.

A box of mementos make for a record of memory that might one day be looked back at with smiles and shared without discourse.  I don’t think you meant anything by it or really even knew what you did to me.  All you knew is that box had to go.  It was your issue, not mine.   I let you make it my issue.  I regret throwing that box away because in doing so I lost more than a box of notes and photos; I lost a little bit of something that we were supposed to put into our own box.

I never meant to go south with my soul searching and let a thing drag me down.

For every lie told in the failed attempt to gain approval I found myself accused of five that were never so.  They were never so yet they were so much the truth of where we stood and what we became.  I regret ever having told a lie to keep from hurting or offending you.  More-so I regret ever having allowed myself to feel that I needed the type of distrusting and accusing acceptance offered.  That was where I went astray.  In the end it was not my fear that became a reality.  I never spoke a word of anything that became what is now a self-fulfilled prophecy except that I was given my praise.

This post was last modified on July 17, 2013 - learn more.

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