I spoke with Amber, and though she privately professed her apology, her promise to make it right in the same fashion as her attack went unfilled. I should have expected as much - publicly admitting that she may have jumped the gun and relished calling me out was just something she had no intention of doing.
It's been five days, at this point only laziness could pose a plausible explanation. Even still, shame on you for not trying once to salve a six year friendship. And you didn't - no letters, no emails, no comments, no seeking out a conduit. You tried as hard to save this as you did when you had it, and the most painful part of all of it is knowing your smug sense of righteousness has prevented you from even caring. Excuses and explanations aside, wanting something to be so isn't the same as making it so.
I also spoke with Mike, who also expressed copious regret about the handling of our marriage. With tears of lamentation for the remembrance of what we were, he was still unable to qualify his responsibility in most of it. They are such similar people, in the end, and all the declaration of intention never developed into actual effort.
After all the fights, the miscarriages, the cancer, homelessness, bankruptcy, caring for Amber, it was the apathy we couldn't survive. We drown in all the times someone should have said something but no one said a thing. At 24, I now know that I had learned to feel bad because it made me feel better. As Meredith Wilson put it, I stacked up my hopeful tomorrows but wound up with empty yesterdays.
So now I have to figure it all out. At marriage, I am a failure. I no longer keep a home, and I no longer care for other people. I'm just trying to figure out how to make decisions for just me, and there are days when I would give anything to feel like I haven't wasted the past five years doing those things.
I just try to remember that I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow.