There’s a group of people I once knew well, past the barriers of formality and beyond any boundaries of unacceptance. Unfortunately, circumstances didn’t go our way, and I had to leave. It may have been considered a self-imposed exile, but exile sounds so severe. Leaving was the only thing that I could think of. I’ll be honest and say that I don’t know from what I was running.
I just know that I was running. I just know that I needed to get away, to distance myself from some of the only people who have ever treated me with respect. From some of the only people who have ever treated me like family. With no explanation, I left, and they have every right to never speak to me again.
Now, years later, I find myself missing what I had. How selfish.
Perhaps it was the commitment. Perhaps it was my intolerance. Perhaps I was trying to protect others from getting too attached. Most likely, it was a combination of everything. I won’t say that I made a mistake, because I make my decisions based on limited knowledge and current, undeveloped wisdom. I will, however, apologize and admit that I’m sorry. Sorry for ever causing any sort of pain, to the last people in the world who ever deserve it.
This is me at my most humble.