Thankyou for your "Sorry"

After months of believing I was naive for letting you leave the door, your sudden apology validated my struggle. That what I went through was morbid, tragic, helpless, and crucifying. But at that time, we called it being generous in the name of love. Thank you for liberating me from my past self who thought asking for a little more was too much. 

I do wish I met you a little later, a little more steady, a little more mature. But don't mistranslate me. Not again. Not until the end. Loving you is the cross I would bear all over again. I would trade my wealth just to replay your voice, your laugh, your gaze, your touch, your grumpiness when you wake up, your silly jokes, your busy times, your shirtless body against the cold, your attempt to sing my favorite tracks, your permission to call, your good morning, your lack of energy to go out, your "I have to go now," and your goodbye. 

You were my primetime rom-com I wanted to watch every day. But, without a prelude or a warning signal, the genre shifted into heavy drama; I wasn't ready to be an emotional punching bag. No matter how hard I try to take another burn, the degree was just too hot and deep to handle. No hood or sleeve could hide the bruises I got from trying to extend whatever lived between us. It was easy to summarize our togetherness, you know? I saved your 2021 and you broke my 2022. 

So thank you for your sorry. And I hope you can also forgive me for refusing to rebuild and return. I'm sorry that the urge to turn on the television stopped growing on me. It's best to say that what we had is now kept in a columbarium. We can only visit it, but we cannot bring it back to life.