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.