I messed up big time, Emily.

Okay, so I need to get this off my chest. It's been eating me alive for months, maybe even longer. Emily, if you ever read this, I am so, so sorry. You deserve better than what I gave you.

We were good, weren't we? At least, I thought we were. We met in college, that first week of freshman year. Remember the awful orientation icebreakers? I saw you across the room, laughing at something the dorky RA said, and I knew. I just knew I had to talk to you. God, I was so nervous. My palms were sweating, and I probably said something stupid, but you smiled anyway. You smiled, and suddenly the whole room wasn’t so scary anymore.

We clicked instantly. Long nights in the library, complaining about professors, sneaking into the dining hall after hours for leftover pizza. We were inseparable. Everyone said we were perfect for each other. And for a while, I thought they were right. You were my best friend, my confidant, my everything. We knew each other inside and out.

Then… then things started to change. I don't even know exactly when or why. Maybe it was the pressure of senior year, the looming reality of graduation, and the terrifying question of what comes next. Maybe I was just being selfish. Maybe I'm just a terrible person.

I started pulling away. Small things at first. I’d cancel plans at the last minute, claiming I had too much work to do. I’d stop answering your calls as quickly. I’d avoid eye contact when we were together. I told myself it was just stress, that I needed space. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. I was scared.

I was scared of commitment. Scared of the future. Scared of failing you. Scared of failing myself. So, I did the dumbest, most cowardly thing I could possibly do. I pushed you away. I created distance where there shouldn’t have been any.

And then… then I met Sarah. She was in my history class, and we started studying together. She was… different from you. More carefree, more spontaneous. She wasn't planning her whole life out like you were. At the time, I thought that was refreshing. I thought it was exciting.

I know that's a pathetic excuse. But I'm trying to be honest here. I let myself get drawn in. Flirting, late-night talks, shared secrets. It started innocently enough, but then it crossed the line. I kissed her. And then I kept kissing her. And then… well, you know.

I cheated on you, Emily. I cheated on the most wonderful, amazing person I’ve ever known. And it was the biggest mistake of my life.

The guilt was immediate and crushing. Every time I looked at you, I felt like I was going to throw up. How could I do this to you? How could I betray your trust like that? You didn't deserve any of it.

I tried to break things off with Sarah. I told her it was a mistake, that I was in love with someone else. She was hurt, of course, but she understood. Or at least, she said she did.

But the damage was done. I couldn't bring myself to tell you the truth. I was too afraid of losing you. So, I kept lying. I kept pretending that everything was okay. I was living a double life, constantly terrified of getting caught.

Of course, it didn't last. You're too smart, too perceptive. You noticed the changes in me. The way I avoided your eyes, the way I flinched when you touched me, the way I was always on edge. You confronted me about it, and I denied it at first. I lied straight to your face. But you didn't believe me. You knew something was wrong.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. The guilt was eating me alive. I broke down and told you everything. I confessed to cheating on you with Sarah. I told you how sorry I was, how much I regretted it.

You were silent for a long time. Then you started to cry. It was the most heartbreaking sound I've ever heard. You didn't yell, you didn't scream, you just cried. And then you said, "I don't even know you anymore."

You left. You packed your things and moved out of our apartment. I tried to call you, to text you, to explain. But you wouldn't answer. You cut me out of your life completely.

It's been a year now. A year of regret, a year of shame, a year of self-loathing. I still think about you every day. I still miss you terribly. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you deeply. And I know I don't deserve your forgiveness.

I’ve tried dating other people, but it never works. I always compare them to you. No one can ever measure up. You were… you *are* the love of my life. And I ruined it.

I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even expect you to read this. But I needed to say it. I needed to get it off my chest. I needed to tell you how truly sorry I am. I wish I could go back and change things. I wish I could take back all the lies, all the betrayals. But I can't. All I can do is live with the consequences of my actions. And those consequences are… devastating.

I hope, someday, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. But even if you don't, I'll understand. I deserve whatever pain comes my way.

Emily, I'm so sorry. I will never stop regretting what I did. You deserved so much more.

Sincerely,

Anonymous