Some Things You Need to Know
I don't know quite how to say this, so here goes.
I am truly, deeply sorry for what I did to you; for that I deserve no less than death, and there is no excuse. But please hear me out. What I did to you was dispicable, and though I thought that it was the only thing to do at the time, I never thought it through like I should have. I proved that I'm exactly what you accused me of being the first time we met: a Fuck-up.
I think of you constantly. Every minute of every day something reminds me of you. Yes, that does sound increadibly pathetic and cliche, but it's true. At times I remember it all: from the more or less "carefree" days of our budding friendship, to the bitter end. I remember the pints of blood we washed down the sinks of so many bathrooms around the city. The tears we shed in the long corridors of the prison-school. Our complex love-and-hate relationship. And all these memories ultimately lead up to the conception and execution of my grand plan; though "grand" is hardly the word for it. I depraved you, one of the only people I've ever loved, of the companionship you required and had come to depend on. And the worst part is that that was what I meant to do. Not to deprave, but to protect, or so I thought. I thought that if I stayed around you worrying about my problems (which yes, you were doing by the way, as little as you want to believe it) was eventually going to kill you. And because I love you so much I deemed that I would have to go. So I used you, in a sense. I did what was nessecary to get you to hate me. That is my sin. And I will never forgive myself.
I'm really, really sorry for all those minor lumps I've added to your sea of shit. Welcome to this world of fools...right? I don't want you to forgive me, I could never ask you to do that after what I did to you. All I want is for you to know what really happened. So there you go. I will always love you, and I will always in some part still be the late, great Holden Zampino, Associate Master of Photo Hunt.
~Nick
I am truly, deeply sorry for what I did to you; for that I deserve no less than death, and there is no excuse. But please hear me out. What I did to you was dispicable, and though I thought that it was the only thing to do at the time, I never thought it through like I should have. I proved that I'm exactly what you accused me of being the first time we met: a Fuck-up.
I think of you constantly. Every minute of every day something reminds me of you. Yes, that does sound increadibly pathetic and cliche, but it's true. At times I remember it all: from the more or less "carefree" days of our budding friendship, to the bitter end. I remember the pints of blood we washed down the sinks of so many bathrooms around the city. The tears we shed in the long corridors of the prison-school. Our complex love-and-hate relationship. And all these memories ultimately lead up to the conception and execution of my grand plan; though "grand" is hardly the word for it. I depraved you, one of the only people I've ever loved, of the companionship you required and had come to depend on. And the worst part is that that was what I meant to do. Not to deprave, but to protect, or so I thought. I thought that if I stayed around you worrying about my problems (which yes, you were doing by the way, as little as you want to believe it) was eventually going to kill you. And because I love you so much I deemed that I would have to go. So I used you, in a sense. I did what was nessecary to get you to hate me. That is my sin. And I will never forgive myself.
I'm really, really sorry for all those minor lumps I've added to your sea of shit. Welcome to this world of fools...right? I don't want you to forgive me, I could never ask you to do that after what I did to you. All I want is for you to know what really happened. So there you go. I will always love you, and I will always in some part still be the late, great Holden Zampino, Associate Master of Photo Hunt.
~Nick