Or do you? What does it matter now? I don’t know. But I would like to know, and I most likely never will. Say you did, but then why the attacks, the tricks, the games, you can’t deny that you played tricks on me, just like I can’t deny that I was the first to f up.
By the way, I gain nothing by posting this, other than some degree of mental clarity maybe, so you should not think of it as an attempt at some game. It’s not. Not that I think you will read this.
But I would really like to know.
When I think of all this (and I still think of all this), I realize that it was part my stupidity and arrogance, part your choice of approach to it, part circumstantial stuff that could not have been avoided at that time. So. I get it how you see me as an immature idiot, a bitch and all that, but I still read your messages and wonder why they are still there. And the tone is still the same. As well as the content, for the most part.
Maybe it would help if you knew that not everything you claim I did to you was actually my fault. Some of it I honestly tried to stop. I never asked anyone to talk to you or embarrass you. In fact, I was terrified when I found out about it. But the cat had been out of the bag by then, and I admit to having let it out first accidentally, but later more out of spite. And I felt just as trapped as you did in the beginning. I had thoughts of you using an excuse to get into my computer, tracking me somehow and replying, which I know is the most bizarre kind of paranoia one could have. I feel ashamed of myself even now when I think of you like this. But technically it could be done very easily and you had an opportunity. How else could I possibly explain it?
I alternated between loving you and hating you for the game you chose to play. For refusing to talk and playing tricks instead. You know, that hurt me too. And what was I to do, grovel, cry, stand there and take it? I don’t know. So I left.
Why am I still writing about this?
Because I still care, and maybe you’ll hate me a little less. Probably not though. I was a bitch to you. You were horrible to me. I don’t know if there is anything left. But please stop being angry at me. I think right now it may be hurting you more than it would be hurting me.
Again, I have to assume a lot of things here.