I want you to be happy. I want to look at life with bright, hopeful eyes. I want you to see colours more vivid, hear sounds much clearer. I want you to smile when you wake up and go to sleep with a massive grin on your face. I never want you to be jaded like me. I sound like your mother. I can see things like that now. Like how my anger was not so much a storm as a tornado. How it destroyed everything in its way.
I want you to move on. I want to be sorry. For all the things I did, I think that should be the things I said. It was that or throw things. But someone would have stopped me and I needed you to hear me. It was deliberate, everything I said. But it was not planned. My mother used to say that when it came to words, I was the kind to bring a fighter jet to a knife fight.
I want all these things, deep down. But forgiveness does not come easy. And with it comes the forgetting and the moving on.
I cannot let you forget me. I only survive each day without you because I know the guilt is killing you. I want to shake it off, it is the right thing to do. I want to be the kind of person who can move on. But we both know I’m not.