I don’t know why I bother to email you anymore. A while ago I made it so that if you ever sent me anything to any of my emails I wouldn’t see it. It just deletes automatically. The precaution was two fold; so your words could never hurt me and I could be spared the humiliation of knowing you’d never respond anyways.It’s like I’m talking to a wall then. And I don’t have to edit myself or shy away from truth. Because I’ll never know either way.
Packing is the worst don’t you think? No matter what there’s always some little something to trigger your subconscious into remembering what it works really hard to forget. Also it just sucks in general. Moving always sucks no matter where you’re going from or coming to.
I went to a therapist and she told me I wasn’t crazy or abnormal or any of those things. She said one day you will think about this time in your life and it will seem so small and miniscule and unimportant. She said my name like your mom did. So-rye-ja. I thought that was funny, ironic even.
Being sad is nothing compared to feeling crazy. Feeling crazy because you think about things that can’t be changed. People who just don’t matter anymore. You to them and they to you.
I still have trouble with it Probably not in the way you think, so narrow minded about it. I still wonder at how you can erase someone. Make them into nothing. Like a song you heard once, or a street you crossed a very long time ago. Make them into a stranger whose existence and experience and feelings never even mattered, never even existed to begin with.
Yeah I know it’s not all that. I just have no frame of reference. Nowhere in the history of me where I can look at and be like “See! That happened once, and it was very hard and very awful until it wasn’t. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
It IS okay. I’m not dead and I have turned a pretty horrific experience into something worthwhile and a little beautiful. That doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. I’m sure you can understand. You’ve been through it too right? I’m sure you have some empathy somewhere for me. That’s good. Empathy.
Well that was all. I’m not sure what was the point besides I am packing and I am sad and it is tangentially related to you. I’m sure you hate seeing my name in your inbox. Like “Good God woman, get a life and move on.” But ask yourself how long it was for you when you went through this so long ago. How long before you just didn’t care anymore, didn’t think about, or wonder about her. Didn’t catch yourself wanting to talk and say hey before remembering that you couldn’t. Because it just wasn’t like that anymore. And then ask yourself if you’re being reasonable.
After you do that try and remember that you never really had to go through it. Through out it all you’ve always been able to talk to her if you really wanted. She never decided not take your calls, leave your texts unanswered, or decide that you couldn’t call or text her anymore at all. She never let her new guys tell you about yourself about why you were a pathetic loser who should just go the fuck away. And knowing you, if she called you right now and needed help or wanted to talk you’d do it for her. Or maybe not. Things change, n’est-ce pa?