• Thank you

    by  • July 21, 2010 • 0 Comments

    The fact that you’re sending me a piddling amount of money every month, and that you put me on your insurance, does not make you a good person all of a sudden. It doesn’t make me forget anything at all. I still hate you. I still resent you for making me feel guilty for wanting to leave your stupid ass and this pile of shit of a state after my dad died. I still regret not listening to my gut saying, “No, what the FUCK are you THINKING?!” when you asked me to marry you.

    At first I was so pissed off that I ended up with those traffic tickets. It was another part of your peckerhead pattern, and I was mad at myself for enabling it for so long. They were your fault, after all. Then a friend who reminds me of my mother GAVE me the money to pay off one of them, and said, “Happy Birthday.” For the other one, the city solicitor looked at the date you finally bought the paperwork to make the car legal (with your mom’s money), and asked me the date we became estranged. The look on his face when he made the connection that this was the precipitating event was fucking PRICELESS. I think the judge was kind of confused about the reason the solicitor decided to ask for it to be dismissed, but only gave me a gentle admonishment and looked at me like he really cared when I said, “Thank you very much.”

    Now that they’re taken care of, I’m glad that I got them. I’m glad you looked at me like I was crazy when I finally got home. It made it easy. It gave me the strength I needed to tell you to get the fuck out of my life. I guess maybe the universe sensed I was ready to do it, that I was ready to start my life the way I wanted it instead of the way you wanted it.

    I’m past ready. I’m well on my way down my own road. It’s sunny and open, and I have a hundred people who love me along with.

    I still don’t have your number.

    by  • July 21, 2010 • 1 Comment

    I looked at the calendar today and realized, holy shit, its your birthday. I raced to my phone to call you and say, “Hello my dear skylark, happy birthday!” Aaand… well, isn’t this odd… Your number is gone! Where did it go? Shit, I didn’t get drunk and guilty and erase it did I? Oh god, what if it was another friend? Shit… What if it was that bitch who went through my phone! And then I think… what if it was you? Then my mind starts racing… then I start to feel ill. What if it was you? I start looking around the room. I look at my mirror on my desk and I see the horrid expression on my face, and instantly revert to normal. I think about what opportunity you had to erase it. Then I think, nah, couldn’t have been her… and then that opportunity arises in my mind. You used my phone all the time, of course you had access… So perhaps you did! What if it was a friend though? Lots of people use my phone, so maybe it was a friend, yeah…a friend… and then I return to the problem. Its your birthday, and I still don’t have your number. I log on to Facebook, you being the perfect girl you are don’t have an account… myspace maybe? no…what about the team roster? maybe i can meet you at a performance…no DAMNIT!!! Theres no way to reach you. No way to see your smiling face again, and even though it hurt every time I saw you… what about your friends? I can call them. Of course, none of them like me because of what I did to your other friend, who just so happened to have the greatest influence among freshmen girls… damnit… And that leads me back to the problem, I can’t call you or your friends because i don’t have your number. Then i get a call. Is it you!? No… of course not. “No Tom, I can’t get on Xbox right now. Goodbye.” Now back to the problem… And the reason for that problem? Someone took it out of my phone. Who? Subconsciously I scream “SHE DID YOU ASSHOLE!” No, shut up. It… damn it… She did. She did it. She must have. I gave her my number… I took her home, I listened to everything she said to me. I fought tooth and nail; nearly got expelled, for her. I bled and I screamed for her, and I lost for her too. When I was needed, I was that shoulder to cry on. I was that guy she could tell anything. And yet I still don’t have your number. Now I’m feeling weird. I look at the mirror. My hairstyle has changed. Its really spikey. I look at the keyboard. There’s hair all over it. I’ve been pulling the hair from my head. That would explain the headache. Nothing cures a headache like a nice alcoholic beverage, but thats why I needed you in the first place, not because its your birthday, but because I need help. Because now I need a shoulder to cry on. I was under the impression that friendship is mutual. But whatever, I’ll just bust out that… no no bottle of jack this early in the morning, you’re not kesha… but back to the problem… I still don’t have your number. I suppose a glass of milk will do. I run upstairs, my heart aching, my head spinning with confusion. I pour that glass, chug the milk and pour another one. Feeling a bit better… kind of queasy, but calmer. I can type slower now… much better until I see you.

    You’re on the front page. So is your corpse. Suddenly, I freeze. Not just my body, but everything inside my body. My heart, my lungs, my brain, my blood, everything just stops. I drop the glass, because my hands are frozen and yet convulsing at the same time. I recognize your school photo. You were prettier at the end of the year when I last saw you. Then I look over and see the car, mangled with flames bursting out of it, an oil tanker wrapped around it like a snake. How that happened I don’t think i’ll ever know. You and your brother, both gone. While my mind comprehends this, my body reacts. I break down in front of the table. I grasp the paper tightly against my chest and sob like the baby I really am inside, and the baby that will never grow up because his surrogate mother/soul mate will never be there to raise him nor will he be there to raise her. And rage pounds in my chest, and sorrow and pity all choke that rage out with good reason, with some strange reason that hits me as odd and makes me ask myself, “Why is my brain reasoning over the death of the only woman I thought I could love?!” I should be tearing shit apart, killing small animals, banging pots and pans against each other, stabbing myself with the knives that are so conveniently placed JUST within reach of my flailing sobbing shell of a body. No songs play in my head like they do in the movies. Nothing happens. My mother walks in and tells me it’s alright, that she’s in a better place now. Thats great, but where does that leave me!? What does this mean now? Am I really this broken up about a girl that didn’t care about me? Why? Is it the only sign of affection that I ever had? Maybe its because I’m so young and naive that I don’t know what true love is like? But that doesn’t stop the pain. Once bitten twice shy, right? There’s a first time for everything right? Maybe if I had the chance to call you, maybe if you hadn’t deleted my number…

    Then it hits me again

    I still don’t have your number. And I never will now.

    Those five years

    by  • July 21, 2010 • 0 Comments

    C,

    When we met. I was young and stupid. I was stupid for that night on your couch, stupid for moving in with you, stupid for accepting your proposal. In fact, the three years we were married before we separated, I made few good decisions. I am beginning to believe that the best decision I ever made during our marriage was to end it. Now that I am dying from something that could have been treated while you were on vacation, cheating on me with that greasy guy from the next state over, I wanted to clear the air a bit.

    The only good thing from our marriage is our child. That’s it. I look back on the sum total of everything else that happened as nothing more than a learning experience of what not to do. You were, and still are, petty, money grubbing, untalented, and moronic on a level that makes me question whether or not you drugged me into marrying you. My new wife doesn’t know the level you sank to, for the sole purpose of allowing the two of you to get along enough to raise our child. She is ten times the woman than you have ever dreamed of being.

    I could fill this letter with examples of your abject stupidity, such as your $40,000 debt that could have been avoided had you filed certain paperwork on time, hitching your wagon to that aging conman, or perhaps your current desire to buy a horse when you can’t even make ends meet. I’ll leave it at that. You’re probably too dull-witted to understand how stupid you actually are.

    Insults aside, there are a few pieces of wisdom I do wish to share with you.

    First, he’s never going to marry you. He is already married, and you would realize that if you had even half a brain.

    Second, she already is beginning to hate you because she is smarter than you. She’s not even ten yet and can manipulate you.

    Third, even after I am gone, losing me will gnaw away at you, and you will never be truly happy because I was the one that walked out, not you.

    Finally, no one I know cares much for you and your antics.

    May you live the life you deserve.

    I am tired of waiting

    by  • July 20, 2010 • 0 Comments

    I am tired of this game. Tired of the phone calls telling me just a little longer. Telling me that you’re right here with me cause you’re not. I am so tired of holding on especially since i don’t really know if there is anything worth holding on to. I know all the things you told me and in the moment I bet you really did mean them, but just like the saying goes actions speak louder than words. I am not seeing all these promises. Right now all they are, are a bunch of words I wanted to hear. That’s it. I need to know the truth. Do we have a future together? Is this really going anywhere? Or this just an illusion and dream that is never really going to come true? Am i waiting for something that isn’t there? I need to know becuase I am tired of waiting.

    inner frustrations

    by  • July 20, 2010 • 0 Comments

    Dear S,

    We keep on having fights irrelevant to our lives, or at least disrupting and corrupting our friendship. I do understand a lot of things even though I don’t tell you, yet you seem to find something wrong in anything that I do or say. Or even if I have made a mistake, is it that difficult to let go. You’ve made them too, I’ve let it go each and every time. I know I’ve screwed before and broke your trust, but I have worked on that so it wouldn’t happen again. I wish you could just see that I want the best for you. I want to be good and close friends with you. You make me happy, and I am grateful for the time we did have.Sometimes I feel like you don’t value my opinion. You don’t disagree with me when I say that, so it makes me think that my opinion is not worth your while. I hope that’s not so. I know you’re having a fight with certain people, and I should be patient, you’re right about that. It’s funny how today you thought I intentionally missed your calls and didn’t call you back. I don’t know what you were trying to prove to me or what point you were trying to make. But the funny thing is I do call you whenever I have the chance and I call you back as soon as I see a missed call. You got mad at me today for no reason, and even before you hung up, what is it that I heard at the end: “I wish you could have some common sense.” That really makes me feel stupid and not up to your level of thinking. Wish you could just believe in me a little more than you do, realize that I am intelligent, that I am human just like you. I hope we work out this friendship, but we need to work on the friendship and your broken trust. And although I’ve just spilled out so many negative emotions, I still love you and you’re my best friend. No matter how much you suggest for me to take the easy way out, I won’t. That’s not what best friends do. They don’t walk out. Haha you know if I were a guy, I’d totally go for you. But I do love you as a friend and care for you deeply. I think we have a special bond. I am grateful to have you in my life. Thank you for being there and supporting me at certain times more than others.

    Muahh

    get out of my life. get out get out get out!

    by  • July 19, 2010 • 0 Comments

    Last summer, I left the city before you, and then you left, too and then it was finally over for awhile. After I turned into a completely horrible person just to be with you, just to be around you and just to feel the way you made me feel. And our first date was in the co-op and it was the best day of all time. And then it was over and I was still hanging on, like an idiot.

    I can’t believe who I was back then. I can’t believe who I am around you. With anyone else I’d never want to speak to you or see you again. And I don’t. For the most part.

    And now we’re moving to the same fucking neighborhood in the same goddamn city and we have a lot of the same friends and I know we’re going to run into each other. And what are we going to do then?

    But the thing is, I’m the bigger person. And really, I always have been. Even though I hate the way I acted, you ran away like a child, you didn’t own up to your own actions and you’ve never once apologized, which I think I have every right to expect when you stood me up even eight months later.

    If you ever want to be a part of my life again you’re going to have to grow the fuck up. When I see you this next year, I’m going to ignore you, I’m not going to get involved in your half-assed life, your facade of a personality or your lack of ability to be a human being.

    Go back to beantown, asshole.