December 17, 2008
00:03
Dear you,
a friend of mine thought I went to you out of desperation, and I resented it, and I realized I resented it because that isn't true. I went to you because when we kissed, it felt right, like two puzzle pieces fitting together, and you had a great energy and honesty about you, where you seemed to say whatever was on your mind at a given time and didn't care. And your humor, even though I've thought it was pretty lame when you tried to be funny, when you didn't try, when you were just being yourself, and making a face, or whatever, it warmed my heart and made me smile. And I'd look into your eyes, and they'd look like mine. And you wore too much make-up in recent days, but when you didn't, I'd look at you and just be happy to see you and grateful to be near you. And no matter what, you'd always make me feel comfortable, no matter how pathetic or awkward I happened to feel about whatever was bothering me at a given time.
That's all gone now, of course. It was all gone the moment you hung up on me when I asked what happened, and in that moment, I felt so upset because you had turned ugly and vicious and calloused. in that moment, you told me your loyalty and devotion had shifted to him, and that you simply did not give a fuck about me anymore. And I've grown to hate you for hurting me so much. And I've also grown more sorry for how I've treated you.
I'd always felt that way, though, that I don't know how to be as nice as I should be. but being away has made me feel sorry, and remorseful, and even though I'd love to punch you for the pain you've caused me, I'd also like to take away all the pain I've caused you. At least I think I've caused you pain. I'm not honestly sure you have actual emotions�
but if you do, I'm very sorry for hurting them, and I'm very hateful for what you've done to me, and I wish I could cut off everything that happened after the first paragraph.
I tried to prepare, to accept and to be happy for you if you found someone else, but I never thought you would do it in such an underhanded and hurtful way, where you strung me along, where you went for someone who deals in hatred and violence and ugliness, and where you'd ultimately pick that over me by letting me walk away.
And what's worse is how you seem okay with letting me walk away, as if all you were waiting for was someone who feeds your fucked up expectations of how a person should be. And that's enough to keep you from obsessing over me.
that hurts, to see yourself dwindled down to a point of non-existence, simply by having a criteria fulfilled by someone else, as if I'm a series of interchangeable parts.
I think you might be a sociopath, and even if you aren't, I hate you for what you've done to me. But I also hope that you find a way out of whatever you're in, and I would write this to you personally, but I can't bear to have the truth that near and the possibility of hearing it. I don't want to know what you've done, but if I talk to you, I'll have to know.
So I cut you out like a tumor, and I feel like I've also freed you from my grasp, from all my flaws that I never wanted to push on you in the first place, but it's unfortunate that you had to get someone to project their ugliness into your world to get rid of me, and I hate you for it, and I wish I could erase everything after the first paragraph, but it's all real. and I'm sorry that you are this way, and I'm sorry for making you feel horribly, if I made you feel horribly, I'm sorry and I wish I could have opened my heart instead of closing you out, afraid of emotions. I feel like I could have perhaps stopped all this, but I can't tell, because you never tell me anything
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