I deserve this anguish on my house.

My notebook is full of scribbles of half-thoughts, of half-sober pipe dreams that don’t make sense two days later.
There are half-written love poems, to you of all people. Feverish bursts of energetic enlightenment, followed by the fear of being eaten alive. They are from when we first met. When you said we were idiotic in nature, that we didn’t know what the hell we had gotten ourselves into.

There are lyrics from songs that tell the story the better than I can. Even though I don’t sing and they are not writing about me.
There are weeks and months missing from this notebook. Some pages are torn out. Some I threw away. I intended to keep everything, to remember it all.

But sometimes I am embarrassed by what I do.Especially now that everything is on the table.See, I’m trying something different. I’m being as straightforward as I can. I don’t need to hide behind carefully laden metaphors.You know what I’m talking about. I’m being as honest as I can.

I fucked up.

I dragged you into a situation that you didn’t ask for, that you didn’t want. I involved myself into an arena that’s destructive and against everything I’ve ever strongly denounced. I slept with another person, a mutual friend.

I fucked up.

I ruined something really good. Something that I cherished more than my other relationships, I held you, us, at a higher standard than this.
But I fucked up.
My excuses aren’t valid. So what if I was lonely. So what if I was horny. Doesn’t change the fact that it happened, or that I went back.
I fucked up.

I literally recoiled when you told me you knew. My heart dropped to the very bottom of my feet. My toes had a heartbeat. “It’s over” I though to myself. I offered a weak apology, one of many I would repeatedly iterate. If I could go back to last month, last September when you asked if we had done anything. I should have told you and suffered the consequences. But I didn’t

I fucked up.

I can’t apologize because I do that too often and it doesn’t make the pain go away. It doesn’t change how I lied. How I betrayed you. How I broke the one thing that made you feel safe. I broke the one thing you could rely on.