:: a.whisper.in.water ::

:: Wednesday, May 21, 2003 ::

Don't you dare convince yourself that you were worth the emotional energy, much less the time and/or money I spent on you. When it came down to it, I was ready to accept you, and you walked away, like the coward you are. Come back to me when you grow up, and realize that the people that match up better than we do are far and few in between. Work out your issues. You're so slow, emotionally. Slow on the phone, slow to heal, slow to learn anything emotional, and certainly slow to grow. I'm a patient soul, and my love really is pretty immutable, so it's doubtful that you won't have a home if and when you decide to grow up. I learn instantly compared to you. I make my concessions within the span of a weekend, an evening, a bloody phone call. What happened to the redeeming humility of your blog? You weren't manipulated. You weren't betrayed by anyone but yourself, and you're the one screwing me over for it. Sorry, but fuck you. Sorry.

Don't you dare tell me that you were good. A self-delusion too profound to be worth speaking of. You may have tried, but you weren't good.

I don't hate you. I rather pity you, but I don't hate you. It's fair to say I still love you, and that I'm just revoltingly mad at you for spurning me, for stringing me along, for making me bend over backwards and ::text deleted:: to make you feel accepted and walking out on me anyway, but this sort of thing doesn't last. Part of me wants to hurt you a little, or at least let you know what you've made me feel, but nothing as permanent, as bridgeburningly childlike as you can be, as you're probably being right now. I don't know where your sense of self-righteousness came from, but it had better fall, because there's not a thing you can say that will make me believe that what you're doing right now is right. If anything, it speaks to a fundamental weakness in your personality that this schoolyear has worn thin. I was perfectly willing to make concessions to that, and you just left anyway. Contemptibly weak. I started dating a fragile angel, and wound up being left by an angsty middleschooler.

Even now, I hold back the worst of it, you waste of such precious time.

Eagerly awaiting your reply. I know I'll be able to reduce it, the complex fraction of your indignant rage, to a simple set of your character flaws manifesting themselves. You hate me for it, too, but there's not much you can do. Call me arrogant, call me a bastard. That's trivial psychological analysis, and just plain namecalling. I know you painfully well, probably better than you know me. I was right, you know. About not her, but you ending our relationship, as over as it already was, as over as it already was.

And I still love you. And I still want you to stay. And I still want you to visit me. And I still love you. And when this all passes, you'll still be my best friend, capable of making me happier than anyone else I know. Even before it passes, it's still true. It's true now, because despite it all, I still love you more than you'll know. And it hurts more than I could ever let myself tell you, because I've always had to be the strong one.

And I will love you 'till I die. For all time. And all I want from life has never changed. Not since I met you. And I really, really wish I knew where we were all going to.

:: Aziz 12:50 AM [+] ::
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