12:05 p.m. - January 04, 2002
and hope you didn't hear.
This is what I would write to him, were I so inclined to still be trying to write to him, which I am not:

Dear Fucking Asshole;
I am not angry; and this is because I have gained the wisdom to realize that being angry with you all the time contradicts the image that I like to portray, which is the picture of perfect calmness and collectedless, as if anything you could ever do or say wouldn't make me raise a fucking eyebrow, much less go apeshit as I have in the past. Getting angry with you has made you show up and confront me only a couple of times; and both of those times it was because someone else told you I was angry, therefore forwarding the (safer) image of me decidedly not being aggressive. If I've got us figured right, we're both the sort of people who'd rather be the instigator than be the one getting pounded on to open up, so we're walking a precarious line, my friend. And if I want to keep you in any kind of way, I am not angry.
Also, I apparently don't miss you. Because you seem to have this aversion to people caring what happens to you.... you run away from them into a situation that is decidedly less stable. I don't know why you do this. But by association, I now know that by saying I miss you, I am stating an extension of my caring, which makes you want to run away, even farther than you already have, which is getting more and more difficult, seeing how far away you are already. But you will continue to run if I say this, so; I suppose I don't miss you, either.
Not to mention that I definitely don't love you, either. That would cause you to end up somewhere in New Zealand.
And I suppose I don't think you're brilliant anymore, either, because you always contested me on that fact, and then got freaked out and left, inevitably. Being brilliant scared you. You were afraid of what you might do. I suppose this is no time to tell you that I believed in your judgment as well as your brilliance, even when no one else did. And maybe I was wrong.
I guess I can't wish you would come back, either. I'm sure you'd rather have that element of surprise, or shock, or something, on your side.
So, my friend...I suppose that exhausts all the feelings I might have had towards you, were it not too dangerous. I'm sorry I can't feel them anymore, at least not outwardly. ::whispers:: i love you. And hope you didn't hear.

previous - next