I never expected to hear from him again. Let alone have him apologize for everything that was said. Or at least apologize for the parts that he was wrong about. He wanted to see me again and I wasn’t sure. It felt like cheating seeing him again, it was the past recounting itself right in front of my face. I made it very clear from the start that I wasn’t going to go easy on him, that I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. So I wasn’t easy. I told him in explicit detail the pain he had caused me. The times that I would cry myself to sleep, the people that I had fucked as a morbid way to get his attention, the alcohol consumed to blot out the pain of loosing him and the times when I wondered if life was even worth living.
He took it in without saying much. I watched him as I dragged on my smoke, to see his reaction. He was hurt. Hurt because he had hurt me. So he apologized; he wholeheartedly apologized for the pain he had caused without making up bull shit excuses to explain why he would do that. Simply enough he was in a bad place, he hurt a lot of people and he regretted it. I asked him point blank if he was sorry for what he did to me. And I looked him in the eye as he said that he was.
I told him all of the things that I had kept in for months. The level of pain, it outweighed everything, nothing had ever cut as deeply as what he did to me. I could see he was visibly upset. And it was in that moment that I realized; I had forgiven him. I wasn’t angry at him anymore, or at myself for what had happened. So I told him, I told him that the past was the past and I forgave him for everything that had happened.
And we went from there.
We laughed, and talked about the past 6 months since we had seen each other.
And I slept a little easier that night.