She doesn't know everything I've done. It will destroy her to know. But, I cannot tell her. I cannot put that kind of emotional pain on another person, so I try to bear it all. It is my fault. She should not suffer because I am stupid and was lonely. I love her. I don't want to lose her. I'm sorry. That's all I am. Sorry I'm not a better person. Sorry I let it happen. Sorry I didn't stop until it was too late. Sorry that I've let years of systematic abuse from internet whackjobs reduce my self-worth into a hollow shell. Sorry these people have turned my name into a personal joke so I am afraid to use it and something I once took pride in is now something I wish I could slip off as easily as I do a dirty shirt. Sorry that they drag my family into it, that I was lonely enough to talk to these snakes in the first place, and that I went back after they almost killed me once. Sorry that I lash out at people who cannot, must not ever know the full extent of what has happened to me. And sorry, most of all, to the self still inside who screams desperately for any hope, any hope at all. From years past I can hear it, across memories that have long since gathered dust. It sounds like the world did before I helped lay my dreams to rest. I have thought of suicide every night for a year. It comforts me. It makes me imagine that I would redeem myself by doing it. That all the stupid things I've done will be swept aside, made right. I just.. I just want to be a good person again.