An open letter to K.P., who I called kitten (though never to his face).
Created | Updated Mar 20, 2002
I was lying in bed last night and I though of you. I don't know why exactly; you haven't come to mind in months if not years, but last night there you were. And I had the old urge again, the urge I've successfully fought for nearly six years now. The urge to try to find you. So I'm writing this letter instead in hopes that it will bring closure to this one moment of my life. I can't imagine you've thought of me at all since you left, but I don't seem to be able to stop thinking of you. I want to write all of the things I sometimes wish I could say to you or had said when you were still around. I don't want to be angry with myself anymore or regret my actions. I want to stop feeling like I want to go back and fix the situation. Because I can't go back, and there is no situation left to be fixed.
I'll start by saying that I was wrong. The things I said and did, but more importantly the way I tried to make you feel. I couldn't understand you and didn't really want to try. I was young and stupid and didn't know what I was doing, and I wanted to fit you into my narrow understanding, to make you fit into the frame I was building. No one could have fit there, least of all you. I wouldn't have wanted you if you had.
Now I wonder if I ever wanted you at all. I think I did; but I couldn't reconcile you with me. You sent me mixed signals, but I don't blame you. You were confused too. But in the end you did the right thing and told me to stop. It probably saved us both.
And now I'm going to say goodbye. I've grown up a lot since then; I've changed a lot. Sometimes I want to find you again, but I won't. I'd love to hear from you and try to put it all to rest. I don't think that'll happen either.
So goodbye and I'm sorry.
I'll start by saying that I was wrong. The things I said and did, but more importantly the way I tried to make you feel. I couldn't understand you and didn't really want to try. I was young and stupid and didn't know what I was doing, and I wanted to fit you into my narrow understanding, to make you fit into the frame I was building. No one could have fit there, least of all you. I wouldn't have wanted you if you had.
Now I wonder if I ever wanted you at all. I think I did; but I couldn't reconcile you with me. You sent me mixed signals, but I don't blame you. You were confused too. But in the end you did the right thing and told me to stop. It probably saved us both.
And now I'm going to say goodbye. I've grown up a lot since then; I've changed a lot. Sometimes I want to find you again, but I won't. I'd love to hear from you and try to put it all to rest. I don't think that'll happen either.
So goodbye and I'm sorry.
