Okay, here goes nothing, bearing in mind the intended recipient will never see this ...
I have to begin with the idea that one day I might run into you again. It's fortunate we have no mutual friends, well not really, the odd former colleague through whom there is an indirect link, but no-one I am close enough to that I'd share even a smidgen of this. So I imagine how I might feel should I see you walking down the street, and I'm pretty much maintaining a neutral position. My response would be dictated by the look on your face should that happen. I know those looks, the resigned disappointment, the subdued anger and the genuine happiness at seeing me. I've not really considered the stark look of horror which I'd rather not be greeted with.
If I did meet you again I'd still be hopeful. Not for any opportunity for reconciliation although I think you know I'm quite the dreamer and while reality and rationality tells me otherwise I'm a believer that there is always, always hope but that wouldn't be the way I'd handle any chance meeting.
I do want to apologise, more than anything. Well not more than making amends and you know I would do absolutely anything, fall on my sword if it would work. I know there really is nothing though.
You told me that I pursued and harassed you like 'some obsessive stalker' after you'd requested I cease contact. You are of course right in this assertion. Believe me I have ploughed through website after website analysing my behaviour against those listed as typical of obsessive stalkers and yes, I ticked all the boxes. I have no explanation for that behaviour, none that is rational anyway. And I hope you understand that, despite the way some of my communications may have appeared that I do not and cannot accept the 'I was ill' explanation. I know how I felt and how that contributed to the behaviour. I felt abandoned, bereft, as though you'd just disappeared and taken away with you the chance to have a wonderful friendship for life. And I responded by clinging on to you for dear life. I shouldn't have, clarity tells me that.
Before we stopped being friends I was utterly convinced that you were either going to break away from me or intended to do me some harm - to unravel all the weird, boundary-defying stuff that had happened and wanted to take revenge. I was sure at that point that you had only continued with our friendship as means to an end and that end was to make me experience all the confusion, stress and intrusion on quality of life that our friendship had cost you.
I was absolutely crazy, no doubt about it, and if it weren't for that craziness we would almost certainly never been friends. It was the lack of boundaries that let me open up to you, that found countless ways to connect with you. We might've become friends under other circumstances but not such fast friends. When I say that however I realise my perspective on us being friends was consistently skewed but there were times, and things you said, that looking back make me believe that you genuinely did like me, and liked us being friends. I was just too paranoid, tense, irrational and insecure to believe that.
This all sounds so bad, like it was a totally ridiculous relationship based on nothing but my need. But it really doesn't seem like that as we had stacks in common, not least, at least i like to think, our sense of humour. Not that we had one sense of humour but you catch my drift I hope.
I cannot say sorry enough. I feel like I've lost so much in losing your friendship but I have to consider your perspective. I worry so much about how much stress I put you through and the impact that has had on you and your relationships with other people, particularly when you were getting together with someone special in your life. I sincerely hope that this hasn't impacted on that relationship in any long-term and damaging way.
I'm sorry that I let you down time after time after time. You truly had the patience of a saint to put up with me and as you already know I will always be grateful for the support and friendship you gave me in an unfathomably bad time in my life.
As usual this is coming out in a daft, stream of consciousness, dislocated way that would do nothing to convince you of my sanity. Were this an actual conversation it would be, I think, interspersed with some jollity even in the serious parts; I think there is a distinct dose of cynicism and need for sarcasm in both our personalities that would make sure of that.
You know, I really don't buy into the illness as excuse or even explanation, I feel too much of a sense of personal responsibility. That's not about beating myself up, something you've noted about me on more than one occasion. Just that if I did that it would provide significantly less impetus for getting and staying better and not really acknowledge the gravity of the situation.
I'm just sorry. I could write 10000 words here and I could never express it decently or articulately. Rubbish. Sucks. Sadly lost the inability to express myself somewhere in this!
