I'm sorry.

I have no excuse for what I did. I've tried to come up with reasons to justify my actions, to make me feel less guilty -- reasons to make me feel less of a perpetrator, and more of a victim. I held on to these reasons like a lifesaver, knowing that I'll be drowning in guilt and regret and disgust over what I did if I let them go.

But I didn't. And I'm sorry for that.

I should have acted smarter than I did then. I should have asked more questions. I should have known better. But I didn't, and I feel so stupid for believing him.

I shouldn't have done what I did with him. But I did, and I'm sick to my stomach for what I did.

I shouldn't have been a hypocrite, turning into the kind of person I hated the most. But I did, and I deeply regret it.

I shouldn't have turned into this "lovesick" twit after that weekend. But I did, and I'm deeply ashamed of what I have become.

I thought I knew who I was -- what I'm capable of, what I want in life, what I no longer need. Apparently, I didn't know myself well enough, and I'm mortified to discover that part of me.

Everything I did, I did because of poor judgement -- wrong decisions made one after the other, based on incomplete stories, baseless assumptions, and very crossed signals. That, and this mistaken belief that I was strong enough to resist temptation, when in fact, I was the weakest link.

I'm sorry for being dumb and weak and horrible and dried-up and desperate.

And I'm sorry it took me so long to do this.

I'm sorry.