Depression
The travel section of a bookshop never fails to depress me. It depresses me that whole books can be written on countries, cities, towns and places that I will never ever be able to see. If there were ever a singularly depressing past time, it would be to browse through the travel aisles reading books about Milan, Greece, Chile, New Zealand, the Caribbean etc., knowing with absolute certainty that I'll never see more than a fraction of the world before I die.
If there were ever something that would be singularly depressing, too, it would be to have complete and utter trust in one person, and have it broken. There's no really good excuse for what I did to you, and I don't know how I can possibly even start to rebuild something again, and maybe it's already too late, maybe you won't even read this, but I just want you to know that I have to try...because regardless of what you think or how I may have made it seem, I do love you and I have nothing but respect for you and what you've done. There are some things that I wish I'd done differently, there are some things that I wish you'd understand, but I guess that's the way things have to be. I don't know if this will make any difference, but I'll probably end up telling you in person, at some point soon. And it's probably going to ring hollow or fall on deaf ears, and I only have myself to blame for that, but I am truly, truly sorry.
PS: Can I ask that my guest bloggers not write anything for a day or so, so that this post stays at the top of the page? Thanks :)