From September 8, 2011

I probably should have started these entries with a disclaimer - that my thoughts may not be organized as I or anyone that may read this probably would prefer. But that probably is a good thing - more honesty.
I want you to be proud of me again, Brittany. I want you to be by my side supporting and advising me in my professional career. I cannot imagine you never being proud of me again. But I know you aren't right now. I understand it wholly. I am not proud of myself either. I portrayed myself as the best boyfriend...as the nice guy who finished last...as the man who never would hurt you. But I let myself do just that. I fell into stereotypes of a typical guy, a black guy, and a politician. I let sexual desire overtake everything I believed in when I committed adultery on May 2. It was like I said "screw the real me," or "take your pride and trust in me and shove it." I never wanted to do that. From the bottom of my heart, I never have set out to hurt you, Brittany. I am so in love, and only with you. To err is human, I did err big time, I know. But it never would happen again if you gave me one final chance. I asked you on the Wednesday before - well, two before - our would-be two-year anniversary what there would be to lose if we tried again. You told me your self-respect, your sanity, and your self-worth. I understand your concern about all three. I really do. But I also should have asked you if that outweighed the gain. Having a boyfriend and life-long partner that would die before going against his devotion to you and the relationship. A boyfriend that would support the decisions you make and be proud of all that you have accomplished. Someone who would tell you he loves you every morning before class and every night before you go to bed. Me. Someone who can't wait to hold you whenever you're near. A man who honestly has learned from his mistakes, maintains a sense of shame, and will do everything to be and maintain himself as an extension of your happiness. Your self-respect, your sanity, and your self-worth would remain intact. I miss you, Brittany. And I love you.