With some people solitariness is an escape not from others but from themselves. ~ Eric Hoffer
To everyone who expected more from me,
I’ve let you down. There is no way to deny it, no way to make it seem less of a disappointment. The thing is, when I am at my best, I seem to be someone strong and intensely alive — someone who can fulfill all expectations with a smile. But I am weaker than you can possibly guess, and sooner or later it overwhelms me and leaves you confused, bewildered, and disillusioned. I know this, know that it will happen. And so, even on the good days, when all is well and I can feel you beginning to trust me, I live with the painful awareness that it will end soon enough. And it does.
The heartbreaking thing is that I can’t promise it will never happen again. I desperately want to be someone who never lets you down, someone you can always, always count on. But I can’t. There’s something in me, something that has nothing to do with you, that keeps me from always being there. It sets me apart, until, inevitably, I find myself completely alone. And if this hurts you, if you see this as a form of rejection, then you must know that there is no one it wounds more deeply than me, and that the only one being rejected is myself.
Every day, I live with the guilt of failing you, of not being who you expect me to be, who I deeply long to be. You have to believe this, if you believe nothing else: I do not mean to be this way. I ache to be the person you think I am more than you can understand.
I do not know if you can still forgive me this time. But if you can, maybe it will get me closer to forgiving myself.
I am so sorry.
Your absent friend