• So be it

    by  • February 10, 2015 • * Safe for Work *, Goodbye • 2 Comments

    Dear Old Friend,
    I know you must feel some sort of hatred for me since I have abandoned you. A part of me is guilt ridden for choosing love over friendship, and another part of me has come to peace with it, because there were a multitude of reasons why, not that alone.

    I was given a chance to start anew, life had become stagnant, I was set in my ways, but I no longer received any gratification from them. You are also set in your ways, and I was so tired of your misery. After all you like it that way. You like to complain, you like to fret, you like to say you dislike things like music and movies (of which isn’t entirely true). You can’t be happy because you refuse to change your ways. And you don’t mind that as much as you say because your comfortable there. I’ve been there, but after a short while I got tired of wallowing in my self pity, it’s just not cute sweetie, and it’s no longer excusable once you graduate from adolescence. No one could dig me out of my own self dug grave but me, most certainly never you. You watched from the sidelines and talked smack. And wow what a good friend you were, as you always proclaimed. As you always judged, as I threw em back, and in the end you did the same as I sobered up.

    And I’m more sober than ever, and I want to live. Your alive but act half dead; where is the spirit in just living, experiencing? You wait for something that will never come until you put your foot out the door of which you cower in fear. For many years, I held your hand, for I feel other peoples emotions when I’m with them, and genuinely care, but like a physic vampire you have always hooked onto my throat chakra and fed off the energy, leaving none for me. And someone came along of whom could nurture and re-vitualize me. I could become strong, and we could fed off one another’s energy. I don’t have to be with people who suck the life out of me and give nothing in return! It’s fucking exhausting and I’m tired of being a fucking martyr. So be it, you can be miserable, you can hate me, you can run your mouth and talk shit or spill my secrets, you can’t really hurt me. I am sorry though that it had to be this way, and that I hurt you. You were also hurting me, and I can’t have that.

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    2 Responses to So be it

    1. Ramblings
      February 10, 2015 at 9:58 pm

      I know of someone who could write a lot of these descriptions about me, and fairly so.

      And I would say to them… just as I caused pain to you and it was my fault… you caused pain to me also, more than I want to go into detail over, and it was your fault. And for the record… I also feel that you sucked the very life out of me with your insincere words and selfish actions over the years… I also feel that you gave very little in return for all of the energy I exhausted trying to be your friend, I feel like you took so much more than you ever gave.

      Any residual hatred that I have is the ghost of those pains from the past and the ways in which it impacted my desire to trust others. The leaving, or “abandonment” as you would call it, wasn’t painful nearly so much as it was… confusing, followed eventually by enormous relief. Because you can’t hurt me anymore either- only the memories will at this point, and less and less so over time.

      For how draining my depression and expectations and erratic recklessness could be, I can’t tell you how draining the insincerity and casual lies and sneaking around and inflexibility/selfishness and secrets of others are, to me.

      Watership Down.. love that book. And call me dorky, but I have since equated the time I spent with certain people from the past, with the time that Hazel’s group spent in Cowslip’s warren. The rabbits in Cowslip’s warren were sleek, strong, beautiful, vibrant, impressive… whereas Hazel’s group was bedraggled and low-spirited, run down. But Cowslip’s warren housed nothing but secrets and lies and was all based on half-truths and deception. Questions were never answered. “It feels like mist. Like being deceived, and losing our way.” I feel like I lost my way, with the people I had in my life at that time.

      If we ever see each other again (unlikely) and I seem distant or even just walk by, it isn’t because of hatred or nastiness, it is because I won’t feel like mustering up the insincerity it would take to seem pleased to see you. We will be, more or less, strangers, because that is the feeling I was left with time and time and little betrayal over betrayal again. And you will be equally justified in your own moving on and feelings also, because I can’t argue with the majority of things you said above. And that’s all it is. Just memories, and I will try to remember the good ones and move away from all the rest, over time.

      P.S. Sorry author, for hijacking your letter; you are likely just a random stranger and none of the above applies to you… your letter set something off in me (especially the “sweetie”) and I am responding to persons from the past, not to you specifically.


    2. Letting Go is Good
      February 10, 2015 at 10:45 pm

      Sometimes letting go of them is what allows who you really are to shine. And there are plenty of folk who would love to enjoy a movie with you. And music? Silly to find fault with music. Now you can listen to what you like, and take in a concert with someone who shares that passion. C



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