I’ve never been good at knowing why I like things, nor people. It was simply something that tingled at the base of my stomach, and I never really wanted or gave and explanation for it. Perhaps it was the sense of adventure that you gave me, or perhaps I was entranced in doing something that didn’t fit the rules for the first time.
The first time little miss perfect chapped her lips for a devil may care smile. That was the role many people, back to where we called home, used to describe me. A tag I earned and felt proud of having, yet not necesarilly aspired to have. I used to yearn your freedom.
The way your laugh just floated through the air, not bound by any expectation nor responsability. Even if we both were wearing the same uniforms and badges, I could always see how yours felt more like handcuffs, rather than unity. Remember when you taught me to swear? How yousaid my voice cracked like the sqeaking beds in the barracks? It did because it never felt right to say it. Like it didn’t feel right to say goodbye to you.
But like all things, I got used to it.
I got used to lonely nights in a bed, to fighting without laughing, to scracthed and scars and goodbyes. I got used to life without you, and even when all was pink and soft all I could think was how I missed you.
I know I broke your heart, but you never knew how I let myself break mine. I broke us, and for that I am sorry.
You taught me many things. To climb and jump. To breathe and to kiss behind shadows. To want and let go.To admit to myself my mistakes, and that it was okay to make them; sometimes.
Here I am telling you that, it was never a mistake leaving the Horde, but it was a mistake to leave you behind; and that I should’ve never let myself fail in that way. Because I failed you, and that I cannot forgive myself.