I dare to write this because I believe that through the doom and through what you aptly termed as "destruction" I caused you is still a most rare and foreign strain of forgiveness and understanding that might bring us not together -dear God, no, I cannot bear the shame- but to where we should be as two people who'd once shared a struggle to figure out what the happiness we once felt about each other's lives and naked bodies meant. It is also the hope of this ambitious letter that you can see me in a lens apt for a person who was handed a most terrible card in the form of a mental ill.
And I can have the guts to write this because although I do not have to tell you that I am clearly a mind gone kaput and terribly out of the path of sanity, you deserve to be told that I was misdiagnosed of Major Depression by Dr. Dira-Mendoza in Perpetual Succour but am now more correctly diagnosed with Bipolar 2 by Dr. Siozon of Manila Medical Center. You cannot blame me if I say that the disease must be the only explanation to everything - from my very being to the last minute of my being with you.
From the suicide attempt I vaguely confessed to you to the series of self-destruction I slashed upon my left wrist to the grandiose dismissal of my potential as an intelligent force of good to the words I wanted to punish you with and to my disappearance from my family and friends and through the series of ended relationships after you that keep on retaining the same pattern of self-destruction and hatred that I had with yours, it should be tempting to say that it was plain bad chemicals that ran my life, but it feels unfair to put it like that. However, I owe it to myself to have my salvation no matter how little of that I believe I deserved, so I choose to believe that it's mostly the illness that got me here.
Survived by my Seroquel and Rivotril and the few remaining people that have endured my panic attacks and wrathful episodes of thrashing my things at them, I am still here, wishing for the most modest form of your mercy. You're now married, and that must be happiness, the kind I would also love to have when we could see each other again as friends, maybe with Maje.
Fortunately not you,