My 2010: Part LIII of "Longing"

(Originally started Friday, December 31, 2010  12:29 PM)

This year got off to an unsurprising start; with a hangover, like a decent number of the days that preceded it... and would continue to follow for quite some time thereafter.  January continued this way and was wholly uneventful, right up until the last third of the month, when I finally had the opportunity to gain resolution with Stephanie.

And while I’d hoped after that point I’d be able to get on with my life, that I’d no longer be trapped in the past or caught up on someone and be able to finally start recovering, that never happened.  What I thought was a beautifully sad night ended up being meaningful for all of a handful of days before she contacted me once again and refused to keep out of my life.

She continued speaking with me as though nothing had happened, up to the point where she told me that she loved someone else.  I tried to commit suicide that same night at the end of January.  Afterwards, she STILL didn’t relent.  I left school due to a combination of financial and emotional problems and moved back home.  A week or two later I lost my job.

I continued to drink heavily and after a time couldn’t even bring myself to write when Dad labeled Euphoric Tomorrow as “not real writing.”  I spent the next several months unemployed, sitting around at home, doing nothing but marathoning DVD’s or playing video games... and drinking, of course.  All the while, she continued trying to talk to me, regardless of my wishes.  I became more and more emotionally detached, up to the point where I didn’t trust myself to be alone.  This continued and only grew stronger as time passed.

By May, a full five months after telling Stephanie I needed her out of my life, I was tired with arguing.  She said and did a few things that pushed me too far; the final straw was when she said something along the lines of “Let me let you go.”

Ultimately, what else can I say about that entire situation?  I wrote her off, told that worthless whore to stay out of my life or that I’d do whatever I could to keep her out.  She’s more or less gotten the point, even if I think she still does follow my life.  I’ve already said everything I could’ve in previous sections of this document.  I think if I live to be a hundred, one of the questions I’ll never understand is “How?”  How could she do those things?  In the end though, I think that’s one of the least important questions I ever need to ask myself, because none of it matters enough to dwell on.

She is a bad person that did bad things to me, and that’s all that’s really worth saying about her.  I’m so much better off.

A few days after getting rid of her, I was able to stop drinking.  Just like that.  I don’t want to claim a correlation between the two events, but... well, it’s just a funny coincidence if nothing else.

That’s not to say that it was like flicking a switch and I just magically stopped drinking and everything got better.  Quite the contrary; life was still pathetic for me.  I still wanted to drink, I still dwelled a lot on whether or not I made the right decision to cut her out of my life, I couldn’t bring myself out of my emotional numbness even a little.  My thoughts were as dark as ever and I’d admitted to myself more than a few times that I couldn’t really find a reason to continue on.  It got to the point that getting out of my car after coming back from somewhere, I didn’t know if it was worth taking the next step, because ultimately, what did it matter?

By July I was slowly starting to pick myself back up; I’d been sober for a few months and that horrible desire to drink myself stupid every night didn’t occur nearly so often.  I still had a horrible sense of self-worth, however, and emotionally I was still a numb wreck.  But I was getting better.

August and September came and went, more time to recover.  I proved that I could hold a job and work again, only to get laid off once more.  Regardless, I could do something that I wasn’t so sure about, and that strengthened my resolve further to get back on track.  And I pretty much was, at that point, even if my self-esteem and worth were still at all time lows.  I still didn’t know how I felt about love or if such a thing even truly existed.  I’d certainly never felt it directed at me, that was for sure, and I still had troubles expressing myself or even feeling some of the time.

I was fully cleaned up by September, though; I hadn’t had any ambien since late January, hadn’t smoked since March, drank since May, or “played soccer” since August, even if that was technically legal.  But I’ve been clean of everything since then and don’t plan on delving into that stuff ever again.

September was incredibly important, even if I wasn’t quite aware of such a thing yet, because I’d started talking to someone.  And the more we talked, the more I started to snap out of my dead emotional state.  Come late October, Macy outed her feelings for me and life since then has been truly unbelievable in the best possible way.

I can’t even begin to describe things.  I’ve never felt this at peace, this comfortable, around anyone before.  I’ve never felt so strongly that life is worth living or content with how things are.  I haven’t had my usual dark or depressed thoughts in... months now... when once they were a daily occurrence.

To steal a phrase:  “It’s like the missing puzzle piece has finally fallen into place.”  I can’t think of anything that more perfectly describes things.  This is love in the most beautiful and purest form of the word.  Our relationship has grown incredibly strong over our first couple of months and I believe the future is going to reach very far; others have agreed with this too.  Family and friends agree that this is a good thing, and while their support isn’t necessary, it is certainly nice to have for once.  I can’t picture my life without her in it; I don’t know how I ever lived without her.  I feel complete.  I’ve never been happier with the direction life is taking than I am right now.

This year has been full of the unexpected.  Around November of ’09 I fully expected for 2010 to be the year I moved out of the Fraternity house into my own apartment, to graduate, to find a better paying job and to start doing something more with my life in general.  2010 turned out to be anything but that.

And I know I’ve said a lot of bitter things about the majority of this year, but I know I wouldn’t be where I am now without all of those terrible events occurring.  As much as I hate it don’t want to admit it, I needed them to happen.  Speculatively, I believe the future would have played out as follows if things didn’t get so bad:  Sure, maybe I would’ve graduated had things not gone quite so sour.  But I still would’ve been drinking, popping pills or any of that other stuff.  If I hadn’t been forced to the point of breaking and then picking myself up and reassessing my life’s choices, I’m almost certain I would’ve drunk myself into a very early grave.

So in the end, yes, I needed to have something happen that “woke me up”  or changed me, so to speak.    I wish it hadn’t come at such a high cost sometimes, but regardless, it was what I needed.  This doesn’t mean I’m happy that I had to go through all of that bullshit to get to where I am now, but I begrudgingly acknowledge the necessity.  This statement does not mean I absolve that bitch of anything, nor does it mean I’ve completely let go of my bitterness or resentment.  I for the most part do “apathy her” now, even if the occasional thought does get under my skin.

I’m not as good as I once at doing any number of things such expressing myself, and I no longer feel like I have all that much to offer.  But I’m getting better at that, and everything I can offer Macy, even though it isn’t nearly enough, is thoroughly and completely deserved.

But the most important and final thing I can say on the subject of hitting my all time low and bottoming out:   It happened.  So what?  Life goes on, and it has.  I’ve found new motivations for life, better reasons to live, and most importantly of all, renewed hope.

Here at the end of the year, I’m left with only the most important people in my life after drifting away from all of those that really didn’t matter.  I’m glad for this, that I didn’t get pulled down with the chaff that once occupied my social circle.  All those that are left... they’re real.  Genuine.  Worth keeping around.  If I stumble, I know I have people around to help me regain my balance.  If I need help, I know they’re here for me.

After everything that’s happened this year, I’ve still been able to pick myself up off the ground.  I’ve turned life around, I’m making this better for myself.  There is always hope.  Life always does get better, no matter how cliche or boring that sounds.  I don’t even think I have to say “with any luck,” because I truly think this is the way life will continue to be.  I love and am loved, and even if life isn’t everything I thought it’d be come the closing of last year, it IS everything I want and need, and is so much more than I could ask for or deserve.  

“Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey

Just a small town girl, livin in a lonely world

She took the midnight train goin anywhere

Just a city boy, born and raised in south detroit

He took the midnight train goin anywhere

A singer in a smokey room

A smell of wine and cheap perfume

For a smile they can share the night

It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard

Their shadows searching in the night

Streetlight people, living just to find emotion

Hiding, somewhere in the night

Working hard to get my fill,

Everybody wants a thrill

Payin anything to roll the dice,

Just one more time

Some will win, some will lose

Some were born to sing the blues

Oh, the movie never ends

It goes on and on and on and on

(chorus)

Dont stop believin

Hold on to the feelin

Streetlight people

For the first time in years, I can say the following and truly mean and believe it:  Everything’s gonna work out and be OK.  It just has to.  I have hope for the future, and it’s never been brighter.  Also, fuck yeah, I got Journey back.

My Alcoholism: Part L of "Longing"

Originally started Monday, August 16, 2010, 5:40 PM

EDITORS NOTE:

I might piss off people by writing this but it’s something I have to say for my own self-advancement. Some of you know what Longing as a writing means to me, others don’t, and others yet don’t care. Regardless of what category you fall into, I hope you’ll read the entirety of this piece; I wrote it all out as an expression of self that I want everyone to see. I have enough respect to tell you all how I really feel. I hope you all have enough respect to hear what I have to say.

Despite that, I know not everyone I tag will in fact want to read this. So I’ll do a “too long, didn’t read” here in a second. If you read nothing else in this post, read it, because it’s serious and I mean every word of it. It’ll sound bitter, callous, and cold, but if you’ll read the actual body of this note you’ll see the reasoning behind it and understand what I mean.

tldr; Don’t ask me to drink with you. Don’t invite me to a place where alcohol is going to be en masse. Don’t talk to me about how drunk you got, how awesome it was, how you can’t wait or how you’re excited to drink during [insert weekend, holiday, random event here]. Don’t reminisce with me about how we had drunken awesome times. Don’t talk to me about anything alcohol related, ever. If I crack and do decide to drink again, I’m not gonna ask any of you to play the role of parent and tell me to stop. If I crack by my own decision and wanna drink with you all again, cool beans. Just don’t influence me or give me the urge to. If it comes to only seeing you all drunk or never seeing you at all, I will choose never seeing you at all.

I don’t want people to suck up with comments saying you didn’t understand. I know that: you all either didn’t understand or didn’t care, and that’s why I brought the problem to everyone’s attention. And now if you’re willing to stick around for the details....

========

I’ve been sober almost three months now. I’m not sure if this is because I’ve been free of drama from an ex, because I’ve been out of reach from most everyone I used to drink with, a testament of willpower, or a mix of all of the above, but here I am. Some days have been harder than others but I’m finally willing to admit that things got way out of hand. My “tendencies” progressed from drinking hard and often with people to drinking by myself... to doing shots in the basement of the student center on a baby changing station... to doing shots in my car... to even mixing with pills....

It was a gradual progression, though. I started off drinking with others, but all too often I got tangled up in the drunken drama of others. I began to pull away from that and started to drink alone in increasingly disturbing amounts. Because I couldn’t drink at the house, I’d find other places to drink...by myself. Like in the library. Or the student center.

All the while, my drinking increased. Both in volume and in consistency. It changed from the weekends, to three times a week, to weeks at a time... until I spent almost every night from September until into February drinking. At first it was a motivation to get through the day; I’d wake up early, go to classes, and work until 10pm. I’d have a drink, relax a bit, do my homework. At the lowest points of this, it felt like alcohol was the sole reason I stayed alive. This was during a few weeks in the summer of ’09 and then most of the fall and winter of later that year. I drank to keep myself from doing anything... permanently stupid. I drank so I could pass out before that chance arose.

I didn’t get hangovers often, but when I did, they were godawful. I never had TOO many blackout spells either, but they happened enough to cause worry. I did have plenty of nights that led to me throwing up. There’s a picture of me that a brother took where I’m passed out in the Phi Delt second floor hallway. I’ve heard several stories about one particular blackout period where I started the night in the Sections, went to some Pi Phi’s house, then apparently ended at TKE, where I supposedly started to make fun of one of the security guys (“Doofie”). And people laughed at this, or said it was an awesome story. There’s so many other times like this, but not nearly enough time or space to write them all out. The point of these stories is just to give a brief glimpse that “yes, there is definitely a problem.”

Along the way I didn’t even use it as motivation anymore; I felt the need to do it without any real reason. I drank impulsively, because I could, and for little other reason than that. Bouts of depression and drama coming from one person triggered the other instances of wanting to drink.

This went on for months and people either turned a blind eye towards it or chose not to say anything. For this, I’m thankful. I’m a devout believer in “it’s my life, they’re my choices, and I’m free to fuck it up on my whim.” I’m usually not big on people getting themselves involved in my life unless I ask them to. So really, I do appreciate this. I know it was people probably just not wanting to stir shit up, not any real regard for what I actually wanted. I don’t find this fucked up.

Something about this situation and the people in my life has been unsettling, however. I think it’s fucked up that friends not only saw this behavior, but ENCOURAGED it. Like I said, I’m fine with people sitting on the sidelines as I destroy myself. But encouraging it.... I don’t see how anyone could do that and say they were a friend. And people knew about the problem; the words “alcoholic” and “heavy drinker” were tossed around in reference to me by the very same people that offered encouragement to drink.

A few people have told me that they always feel like I’m “on the brink,” and I’m far from a happy person, but I’m generally not a fan of wanting to die. If I keep drinking, that’s exactly where I’ll find myself. Sooner or later, either from some dumb ass mistake I make or liver failure, that’s exactly where I’d find myself. I’m gonna try to stave that off as long as possible.

I may very well break and end up drinking again. When I do, I don’t know when I’ll be sober again. Until that day though, I’m going to do everything in my power to stay away from booze. This involves removing a lot of influences that revolve around alcohol. A lot of people in my life drink; that’s fine. What I’m asking and hoping is that they don’t do it around me. I don’t want to be around that because it just puts too much pressure on me. That doesn’t sound too farfetched or hard.

It goes a step further than that. I also don’t want people to talk about booze around me, invite me to places where alcohol will be readily available (think bars or parties or whatever little ‘gatherings’ people throw in their rooms), or reminisce about drunken times, because that adds pressure too. I don’t think people are going to understand this one as easily or readily. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal either when someone I know went through a similar ordeal. I didn’t understand it and I was an idiot. I DO understand that sometimes things slip out in conversation; you say something on accident or without thinking. I can tolerate these mistakes from people as long as they aren’t constant. This isn’t a loophole for people to squeeze though. If it comes up, I’ll politely ask you to stop. If it continues, I’ll just walk away from whatever’s going on and I won’t come back for a while. If it happens too often, I’ll cut the ties. I’’m not taking any chances on returning back to what I was.

I’m also not going to ask anyone to coddle me. No one is responsible for me except me; I don’t expect anyone to parent me. I want everyone to respect my wishes, but should I start drinking again, no one has an obligation to step in and tell me to stop. If they want to be that person, cool. But I won’t ask it of them.

I put a little thought into this and I think this is the best way I can describe it to a bunch of horny college students. I’ve heard a lot of people make the claim that “alcoholics” don’t really feel the need to drink, they just use that as an excuse to either make themselves sound better or gain pity, that they can control how much they drink but just don’t want to. I never went so far as to think that, but I’ll supply my valid (if odd) example here.

You know how it feels when you get horny? You’re out somewhere and you see someone you find attractive. If you’re with a friend you might joke about it, say what you’d like to do, etc. Now, say that you get really aroused, you REALLY feel the need to fuck or #3 or something, so long as you get off. You feel that lust and desire. And sure, you can resist it, but you’re EXTREMELY aware of that feeling and want until you can either do something about it or it gradually subsides, and more often than not, we all “do something about it,” don’t we? The need to drink is something like that, it’s your heart getting horny and lusting for a drink.

Now, sure, that’s probably humorous, but I also think it gets my point across well. I know people probably didn’t understand before and I’m not sure if that will help or not, but it’s the best I can do to describe how it feels to “normal” people. Even now, I don’t think people will grasp it completely or care enough, but I’ve said my peace on that.

This is extremely important to me, and if people don’t come to understand or continue to not care, I’ll cut them from my life. I care about most of the people that I’m sharing with this; hell, I even love a few as individuals. But no one, and I mean NO ONE is worth sacrificing what peace of mind I currently have. I don’t care how well I know you and how much I care about you; if you don’t try to respect my wishes, you’re showing how little your friendship with me actually means to you, and I have no desire to know people like that anymore.

I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life and have every intention of continuing to do stupid things, but I have every intention of staying sober for as long as possible. I’m just gonna do stupid shit sober, thank you very much.

Because as fun as it was to initially drink, it quickly became routine. It went from pleasure, to pastime.... to lifestyle. Sure, drinking started off fun; I’d get together with friends, but everybody should obviously see what it grew into only a couple of years later.

What started off as fun grew into an extremely shallow and empty lifestyle. For a while now I’ve been bitching and complaining about how I always try to find meaning in my life; I tried religion, that didn’t pan out so well, I tried medication and that failed, I’ve tried living for myself, for others, tried dedicating myself to anyone willing to try a relationship with me...and none of that worked out. Then I discovered alcohol.

Alcohol...oh alcohol. I can’t say that I was hooked the first time I drank... but when college came around and I got drunk.... I’ve heard others describe it as “true love” or as something that just clicked inside them. At the time I didn’t think of it as anything like that, and I still have trouble describing just how I felt. The best I can describe it though... I felt happy. Free of some pressure I never knew existed. Most of all, I just FELT, and that’s been a rare occurrence all my life. It took away all of my issues, made me believe I was a better person under the influence (people have even agreed to this...jokingly or otherwise), and helped me express myself in ways I can’t when I’m sober.

The thing is... all those other things I listed above that I tried in order to find meaning... they made me feel at first as well. Later on, they obviously did nothing for me or else I’d still be happy. They worked for a while, and then I either got burned out on them, hurt worse, or hooked (or any combination of those three things).

The alcohol was no different. At first I was happy, but by the end I just felt emptier than ever. The emptiness was an accumulation of a few different things going on, sure, but since I’ve stopped drinking life is in the process of a slow recovery. I won’t dismiss that this recovery could in part be because I got rid of HER, but even in those few times I drank after trying to move on... it didn’t do anything but make me feel worse. I’m not going to sit here and write to all the people I know that drink and say their lives are shallow or empty because they drink often. Whatever works for them is fine. It just feels that way for me, and I know that there’s so much more to life out there than sitting around in a circle every slow night, drawing cards out of a deck and doing shots. Should my words make people question themselves or think, good for them. Not my business unless they want it to be.

Even though I don’t want to get rid of people from my life, I feel like if I don’t outright cut ties, I’m going to drift away from people because they’ll keep drinking and I don’t want to put myself anywhere near that. I already feel it happening. And if that’s the case... well, that’s what happens. I’ve tried and put in my two cents.

After this transition in my social life, I’m not sure how many people I’ll have left. One of my friends brought this up about someone else, but I think it’s applicable to my life as well: Just how many friends do I have outside of alcohol? How many people do I associate with (and how many associate with me) when I (we) aren’t drunk?

The answer isn’t something I’m too proud of. Strangely enough, I do have a decently large social life on campus, but as time has gone by, most of the people in my life are the people I always drank with. At first it was people I’d hang out with, and we’d drink on the weekend, but I’d spend time with people who didn’t drink too. These that I drank with on occasion soon became the people I saw all the time... and under the influence, of course. My time was soon divided between friends I drank with and friends I didn’t drink with. Only... it wasn’t divided, not really. I had to make a choice between the two groups. More often than not I chose the alcohol group. Before I left school, it was ALWAYS the alcohol group.

So assuming I drift away or get rid of those people from my life, how many do I have left? How many people have I already drifted away from, pushed away, or pissed off when I chose booze over them? A lot of the people I used to be close to aren’t really a part of my life anymore. Honestly, I don’t feel close to anyone anymore. That isn’t an issue to discuss in this particular piece, however.

Regardless of who or who may not remain in my life in the coming months or even weeks, it’s taken me a very long time just to get to this point. I feel healthier, both emotionally and physically. Despite this, I still feel the urge to drink every so often. The absolute need. I have a hard time struggling to admit that drinking is an issue for me. I tell myself that I don’t fit the bill for the typical “alcoholic;” it doesn’t traditionally destroy relationships I have with people (other than choosing drinking friends over other friends), it rarely hindered my productivity at school (I’d even argue with myself that it made me do BETTER), and it never usually got in the way of work (I can recall one hangover that was so terrible I had to leave work early). I’d even fight amongst myself that I was a fucking janitor, working evenings after close, and I never drank at work. I told myself I wasn’t that stereotype, so I was fine.

I wrap it around in my own head that it was just something that got out of control for a bit, that if I REALLY try, I can drink again, I can keep it in check, that I’ll be fine and be able to enjoy myself again. The one thing I will ask of my friends: If I start to openly debate this but don’t start drinking again, tell me I’m an idiot in your own words. If you care about me, be as vehement or polite as you want, just say it. Don’t let me win this argument with myself.

One of the hardest things for me to confess is that my weaknesses get at me way too often. Throughout all of my problems for the past few years, alcohol has always been there. Sometimes as the cause of the problem, but all too often used as the solution. Alcohol became the answer to every problem I had; if something bothered me, I looked for the remedy in the bottom of a cheap plastic bottle.

After all of this, I STILL twist it around in my mind. I’m decent at debating, and one of the only people I have a hard time defeating is myself. For the longest time I always denied that I was in...well, denial. A few friends, people I considered the truest of friends, said I was walking a very thin line between heavy drinker and alcoholic, but I came up with reasons, excuses, anything to validate my choices. In the back of my head I knew there was a problem, yet when the time came to admit it, I’d always choose to lie to myself.

I’m here now, admitting that things got out of hand. That my drinking was a problem and will be a problem, no matter how long I go staying sober. I can do this. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself, and I think I can as long as I stop having influences from the other people in my life. So please, all of you, listen to everything I’ve said above. If you don’t, you can all get out of my life. It doesn’t matter who’s with me or not, who stays or goes... I’ll stay sober, I’ll live my life, alone or with the select few that prove they’re worthy of keeping around. I’ve told people in the past, and it seems like they weren’t listening at all. That’s got to change right now.

I’m apt to believe that a lot of people aren’t going to take this seriously; few people do when starting out. But I’ve been sober for more than three months now without really talking about it to anyone; that alone should prove just how serious I’m trying to be.I know to some people I’ll always be remembered as that huge campus drunk, even if I live to be a hundred and stay sober right up until death. Some people are going to remember me as that for a life time even though it was only a couple of years, but by staying sober now... maybe to all the people that matter, I’ll be remembered as something more. Something other than that, at least.

“Invisible Monsters” by Motion City Soundtrack

Woah woah, are you out there?

Woah woah, are you listening at all?

Woah woah, are you out there?

Woah woah, are you listening to anything I’ve said?

It’s hard to believe I cannot exist without you.

As hard as I’ve tried, I cannot confess completely, yeah.

These words were not meant to induce acts of likewise behavior. (behavior)

It’s just part of the curse,

I’m just trying to stay alive.

Woah woah, are you out there?

Woah woah, are you listening at all?

Woah woah, are you out there?

Woah woah, are you listening to anything I’ve said?

It’s hard to admit, my weaknesses can consume me.

I search for the cure in the bottles of varied volumes, yeah.

The joke of it is I express myself without purpose (a purpose for living)

Yet you devour my small bits

Of madness and make-believe.

Woah woah, are you out there?

Woah woah, are you listening at all?

Woah woah, are you out there?

Woah woah, are you listening to anything I’ve said?

If I can pretend, I don’t depend.

I can deny, deny denial.

Yet when push comes to shove and all the above,

I decide to live the lie.

Woah woah, are you out there?

Woah woah, are you listening at all?

Woah woah, are you out there?

Woah woah, can you hear me?

Woah woah, can you hear me?

Woah woah, can you hear me?

Woah woah, are you out there?

Woah woah, are you listening to anything I’ve said?

I’m always trying to find meaning in life; it’s time to start trying to find it without alcohol. Without a lot of people, if necessary.

My Intoxication By Imagination: Part XLVIII of "Longing"

(Originally started Friday, April 9, 2010 1:07 PM)

I’ve decided to post this in the only way that could possibly matter anymore. I’m doing to you what you’ve done to me so many times before. Every time you’ve proved to me in the past how little you’ve cared, either with the way you present information to me, or how conversations weren’t important enough to even talk about anymore, all of that... that’s what I’m doing to you now, in the most important things I’ll ever have to say to you. I’m going to start caring about you as much as you cared about me. And I’m not doing this because I can’t face you. I could. I’d love to have some sort of conversation or open dialogue to get closure on this matter, but that’s essentially what’s been going on since January and it isn’t coming. I tried to have discussion with you in January but you didn’t respect that ending. This is the only way I can get away without getting pulled back in. I won’t give you the chance to argue anymore because you always say the same things anyways. You’ve had your chances and I doubt conversation now would be any different. So I’m going to write what I need to, reveal it to the world, and then sever all ties with you.

I have to take a moment to fully appreciate this situation. It seems like a lot of different things led up to last night’s complete realization for me. Sure, the individual parts made me think and put me on the right track, but it all culminated completely last night. I’ve been reading “Atlas Shrugged” and I’ve recently just gotten past the point where Rearden sees the people manipulating him for what they are; this is part of Rand’s “sanction of the victim” philosophy, and it put me on the right path. At the same time, I read through “The Alcoholic” by Jonathan Ames, and in the last couple of pages, the main character comes to the realization that he no longer loves the girl he pursued, he only wanted her.

All of that weighed heavily on my mind the past few days, and then last night I see her status as “planning our trip to Vegas;” at first, I was furious and ready to punch a hole through something. After I confront her about that and how she still owed me money, however, I started to realize that I wasn’t nearly as upset as I thought I should be. Looking into the moment when I first saw that status I wasn’t angry that she was going on some large trip with another guy; I was pissed off about the money a split second before anything else crossed my mind. Then I was angry about the trip.

Hopefully you see why the order of those events is significant.

This is the truth of the matter, from the culmination of that realization, plus the ideas I’d received from what I was reading at the time; ===== it hasn’t been so much about loving you anymore as it has about wanting you, because if I had you, something in my mind told me that would’ve validated all the pain and loss I went through with you.

Looking back, however... I don’t think validation would’ve been the case. It’s like in 500 Days of Summer, when Tom’s sister tells him to look back at everything and asks him if everything really was wonderful. And I know that they weren’t, I knew they weren’t so great a long time ago, but back then I always had the hope that one day you’d be everything I knew you could be, what you showed me you could be in fleeting glimpses, instead of the immature bitch you really were. The more I fell in love with you, the more it was because I kept hoping, in the end, you’d be the person I originally knew.

So if, in some strange sense, you would’ve come back to me yet another time, I think I would’ve been miserable, because you wouldn’t have changed a bit. You never did in the past and I have no reason to believe you ever would’ve. This makes me think I would’ve reached my current conclusion anyways, eventually at least.

I feel like I can see you for who you truly are, now that I know I no longer love you, and I have to ask myself, “What the FUCK was I thinking?”

Here’s my thoughts on that particular subject: Everyone that knows me knows that my self esteem is questionable at best. When it comes to girls though, it’s downright terrible. Because of this, whenever a girl takes interest in me, I invest myself pretty hard into them since its such a rare event to me. We had a lot in common, sure, but it’s downright absurd for me to continue pursuing you to the point of self destruction, though that’s exactly what happened. And why? Because you were there and I’d already invested in you. I couldn’t let go or move on because you were there. That’s all there is to it, despite every action you did to me.

You’re just another dumb whore in an endless sea of idiocy, undeserving of the things you stole from me. I’m not trying to be spiteful with that statement; consider it a simple fact. You knew what you were doing to me the entire time, you didn’t appreciate me or make an effort to show it, and you sure as hell didn’t care enough to change. ======= I think the facts speak for themselves. You are what you are.

You weren’t worth much of my efforts after that night in the hotel in March. I’m aware of this now, even if I struggle to admit it. You weren’t worth my everything, the meaning I sacrificed for you, the other girls I turned down, or the love I gave you. Two of the girls I could’ve been with are now recently engaged. They could’ve obviously been solid relationships. At the very least, they would’ve put forth an effort.

Fuck you and fuck your happiness. It should be me with you and I think you fucking know it. You’ve told me that you failed, that you gave up. But it doesn’t matter to you; no, you simply say that you’re worthless, that you’re a terrible person, and then you go on being happy with your life.

Since you wouldn’t give me closure on something I desperately need, I have to reason it out for myself. I also believe that any answers you would’ve offered up would’ve been lies that you feed to yourself to be absolved of guilt, because you always ever only offered up the same excuses in words while your actions spoke completely differently.

There’s the roundabout conundrum of a few different things. There’s the reasons as to why you always came back to me, and then why you still keep making it sound like you’re uncertain of your decision. You always say something that pulls me back in, it’s always just enough, right when I’m about ready to cut every tie. And why?

Why do you care about who makes me happiest, or if someone means my everything or could be the one? You know you’d be hurt if you heard that I slept with someone else, or that I loved another person. You want me to want you. This doesn’t make any sense to me at all, because if you were happy with him and in love, why would you want my love?

The only obvious answer would be that you’re not getting all the things you want from him, or that you’re still stuck on me. If either of those are true, then you shouldn’t be with him. But you are.

And I want to believe all of the words you’ve been telling me; I do believe some of them; you eventually came to your own conclusion that you wanted my love and that it made you upset because you thought it was fading. But others... ohhh.

When you go from telling me that you think you loved me, to you couldn’t help it that you never felt anything for me, to saying you must’ve felt something strong for me all IN THE SAME CONVERSATION, I no longer think you have the authority to claim you know what was going on. So this is truth of the matter as I see it; you never loved me. I don’t honestly know if you ever really felt anything for me at all, because of your actions. Maybe you kept coming back because you knew it was the right thing, but you were too numb to actually feel.

You repeatedly argued that you thought you loved me though, or that you cared for me, even when saying you felt nothing. Contradictions can’t exist; check your premise. I think you’re telling yourself that you must’ve felt something for me over the course of our situation, because if you had any emotions for me whatsoever, then you’re absolved of some of the guilt. If you felt for me, well, you gave it your best, and it just didn’t work out. Only, you never felt for me, and your actions proved this so easily.

No, I think you feel ashamed for your inability to care about me, and because of that, you deceive yourself into thinking you may have felt something for me even if you couldn’t have expressed it. That in turn makes you feel better; after all, you can think to yourself that you tried, you did feel something, but ultimately it never worked out.

And to say that you loved me... why would you say that? Why would you EVER say that when you know you never did? You say you don’t know what you felt and that’s your excuse for repeatedly saying something so painful to me. Do you know just how much those lies tear me up inside? You saying you would’ve loved me is like me saying I would breathe underwater if I had gills. You would’ve if you weren’t numb, but you were, so you couldn’t. I’d breathe underwater with gills, but I don’t have them, so I can’t. “Would’ve if I could’ve” is NOT the same fucking thing as reality.

The biggest question I had back in January was a simple “Why?” Expanded, it would be: “Why are you doing this to me?” It’s far beyond this point now as the answer is your selfishness. The next logical step would be to ask “How could you do this to me?” How could you ever love someone and still put them through that much pain?

Seriously, look at every little thing you ever did to me. How can you even REMOTELY say that you loved me, after all of that? No, you didn’t treat me like shit because you were numb and still simultaneously love me. You wouldn’t be capable of actions that atrocious towards me if you loved me. It was a complete lack of caring and selfishness on your part; that is NOT love. Those moments are infuriating. You didn’t. You know you didn’t, and yet you still make those claims. Just fucking stop it. Your actions are proof beyond anything else that you NEVER loved me. Hell, they barely if ever show that you really cared about me, let alone loved me.

Stop making those fucking claims and acknowledge the truth of that situation. How could that have possibly been love? I’d love to see how you respond to that, only I don’t have the weeks or months to wait for a fragment of the answer or roundabout vague statements that do nothing to answer.

So what happened? You never loved me, that much is clear. After your birthday, you got upset that I grew distant as I struggled to write and tell you everything on my mind. Instead of waiting, you gave up. You gave up because you were tired of everything in the past. You gave up on me in a matter of days, when I NEVER refused to give up on you. You chose to blame it on other things, but here’s the reality of the matter; you took the easy road and that was to turn your back on me. And that kinda led you to turn out like me. You love someone because someone is there to love, only you use it reassure yourself that you can in fact love. You don’t want to turn your back on what you now have, because it’s a reassurance to you. But you so obviously can’t be that happy or in love, because if you were, you wouldn’t care about still wanting my love or getting any of the things I gave you.

I think you know I’m right on a majority of the things I say or write about, whether they’re from blog posts or the things I’ve written above, even if you don’t want to admit it. This lack of satisfaction is one of those things, because if you do acknowledge, you might just realize I’m right, and you made the wrong decision.

This anxiety you feel, the shaking and trembling whenever you read something I write, or whenever I choose to contact you, all of that... maybe it’s because you know I’m right, but it isn’t something you want to face; and you feel this way because every time I talk or you read something I write, that you think maybe this is the time I’ll convince you to see the truth.

But you don’t have to worry about it anymore. One of the last exchanges we had, where I posted the final Hayley and Alan exchange in Reality’s Dream, I said that you knew it was more than just a work of fiction. You later responded with “what do I say to someone that knows me perhaps better than I know myself? What do I do?”

“What do I do” is the wrong question to post, because for you, it’s really two questions; “What should I do?” and “What will I do?”

The first is the most important, and unfortunately, the one you won’t spend much thought on. What should you do? You should make the right choice. And I think you know, after everything we’ve been through, that I’m the right choice.

But what will you do? Oh, now that one... that’s where you lose everything important. What will you do (...what have you already done?)... you’ll do what you always do. Briefly acknowledge what I’ve said, make it sound like you know I’m right, and then brush the issue aside like it never happened and never think of it again.

And I’m going to let you do that, this time. You’re not worth fighting for. And when you realize –if you ever realize – what you’ve done, I hope then you’ll know it’s too late, that you never should’ve gotten rid of “the person that knows you better than you know yourself.” Because if he can’t do that... one day, maybe, you’ll wake up and see that all of the things with him don’t mean anything, and when you realize you need something more meaningful, and think of me, I’ll be gone.

I know that you still want me in your life and to keep me as a friend; you’ve made that abundantly clear in your repeated attempts to keep me around and some of your more downright stalkerish obtrusions. But I don’t.

You may say that you’re really going to try this time to give me the closure I need, but you’ve been saying that since December. All you’ve ever done is give me words to keep me in your life without actually following through with any action. Even now you’re doing it. You tell me that you’ll answer my questions after I spend months begging, and you give some half-assed attempt that covers three questions when there were so many more. And you’ve even said something like “I’m afraid to do this because then I’m worried you won’t be a part of my life anymore.” So you know that you’re dangling this information in front of me just to keep me around, even though you’re stringing it along for as long as you possibly can. How fucking sick is that?

So many of your words are hollow. You say all of these things, but where’s the remorse? Where’s any of the emotions that would go along with how you should feel if you thought these words were really true? You’ve had so many missed or wasted opportunities in the past to keep me around... all you had to do was actually follow through with the things you said.

===============

You don’t add anything to my life anymore. You haven’t, I don’t think, probably since July; the last of the “greatest” memories I have of you comes from that time; seeing 500 Days of Summer and the things you said to me as I confronted a figure from my past at my grandpa’s funeral. There were a few good times after that, certainly, but those two things listed above are the last good and big memories of you that stick out in my mind. I gave all of my efforts to you for something. I didn’t do this for your benefit; I invested in you, hoping to get something out of it; namely, you. if I would’ve known in August or September, that this is how things would’ve ended up, there’s no question in my mind, that if I’d have known things would’ve ended this way on the night when you said my desire to find meaning was fucking retarded, I would’ve left that same night. You gave absolutely nothing to my life after that point. Even as far back as March of ’09 after the Cincy trip, or after the events that transpired in April, it was hard not to just walk away.

=====

You’ve hurt me so much and you just continue to do it, but this ends here and now. I wish that this ending could be as beautiful, as pure, as the one that happened in January. But it won’t be. It can’t be. I wish I could cry and feel depressed over it, feel that sense of freedom again, but nothing can ever bring those feelings back. But I can do one thing now, something I haven’t been able to do in the past: Move on.

I think about all the beautiful things I wasted on you, and for what? For nothing. For worse than nothing... for self destruction... in the name of hope.

Everything that’s been destroyed or tainted, I know I won’t be able to reclaim it; the meaning, the memories, music or any number of things that reminds me of you. This gives me the chance to start anew and rebuild though, and I won’t let you rob that from me anymore.

I gave you so many opportunities in the past to prove that you were worth being a part of my life, but you rarely if ever stepped up. You disrespected me at every twist and turn of our time together. If you’d have shown even a little, I might still want to be a part of your life. But you did it throughout my time pursuing you; you did it after you claimed you wanted nothing to do with me. You changed your mind repeatedly on whether or not we should even have our “final” resolution in person or not for an extremely long time, at one point even going so far as to say you didn’t know if it was worth it anymore. You always said you were too busy. But really, you weren’t. You weren’t too busy to find someone else, where you? Or to start a relationship with a new person? No, you set your priorities, and showed once more just how important I was. So why should I try to even care now? Especially when you said you just needed to take time away for yourself and not be in a relationship.

You do it to this very day. Hell, if you would’ve just respected things in January, when I said I needed to say goodbye, and stuck with that “beautiful ending,” I probably would’ve came back in a few months to a year, because I still cared and respected you as a person, but now.... No, not anymore, not after what you keep doing. How did you expect me to ever move past the pain I felt from you when you refused to even give me any time to get over you? Seriously. I’m almost certain you’ve contacted me at least once a week in some form or another since January, when I told you I wanted you gone.

“You make me want to die” is one of the single most painful statements I’ve ever had directed at me; it came from someone very close to me when she was drunk, but even then it hurt far worse than most of the other bullshit people throw my way. I told myself that I never wanted to say those same words to another person because of how hard they struck me, but I can’t think of anything that works better to describe how you make me feel. You make me want to die, ====. Directing those words at you may actually hurt worse than the pain of knowing that I tried to kill myself.

Do you get that? Really, do you get it? I tried to kill myself because of things you said and did, and you STILL refused to stop hurting me. I’m still suicidal, but you still try. How can you do that?

I struggled with this for a long time; flip flopping on saying you understand me well and you don’t understand me at all. I think I get it now; I know how to explain it. You do understand a lot about me, only... you don’t seem to get some of the most important things about me.

You continue to reinforce this and your own self-lying, even up to some of the last things you’ve said to me.

“I answered your questions, I will let you go. Just let me.”

The first part of this statement: No, you did not answer my questions. You beat around the bush on three of my many questions and never really answered anything. Instead, your “answers” were mostly words used as arguments to try keeping me around.

Just let you let me go? Like I’m keeping you from doing it? This simultaneously sent me into raging bursts of laughter. What am I doing that keeps you from letting me go? Offering up valid arguments about why you should be with me? If that’s the case, if they’re having that effect on you, then it should be me.

I mean, what else do you want from me? Validation that you did the right thing? Never. You didn’t. Forgiveness? No. You don’t deserve it. You once tried to argue that if I could forgive my childhood abuser, I could find it in my heart to forgive you as well. Certainly I forgave him, but he isn’t a part of my life, nor do I want him to be. And more importantly, he raped my body, but you...you raped the spirit. And that is something i do not have the capacity to forgive.

So what else would you want from me? Kindness? What? I’ve given you far more than you ever deserved. Now live with what you’ve done.

What else was I supposed to do? Over the past year and a half I’ve done everything I possibly could’ve to give you everything. I tried everything to make the vicious repetition of these cycles stop, but none of that ever worked. What am I supposed to say?

I will miss you, I cannot lie about that. But it’s the kind of missing where I want something I’ll never be able to have. I’ll miss you, but I honestly feel like I’m an empty shell of who I once was. This is getting to me in ways I never thought possible. Every night I walk from my car to the house after coming back from anywhere, I stare up at the night sky, looking at the stars, and it all makes me want to collapse right there in the yard. What’s the point in taking the next step? What does it matter, what makes that step worth taking? Though I’m usually depressed, this has become far too habitual for my comfort.

I’ll miss you, but all of my friends were right about you in the end. That you were just going to hurt me and you weren’t worth my time. You argued this and you say you hated it they said these things, but they were right, weren’t they? What part of anything they said turned out to be wrong?

You always said you prided yourself on being mean, that you found it entertaining that you made someone cry. Do you pride yourself on what you did to me? Are you entertained and happy that you destroyed so much of what I cherished? That you pushed me over the line into alcoholism? That you were mean and cold enough to rob me of the ability to feel anything?! Fuck you.

And what did you do to deserve anything I gave you? You played me, you dropped and came running back so many goddamn times, you stole meaning, you rejected my absolute best efforts after long months of trying, and slapped me across the face by finding someone else and being happy with him.

Do you have any idea how much that pisses me off and hurts? Do you know how worthless it makes me feel that my everything didn’t mean shit to you?! That he gets to reap the rewards of my hard work on trying to get you to feel again? That after several months I got to be only “complicated” with you after your first choice pissed you off, yet you find some new guy and put yourself with him after... what, a month? Ohhhh, fuck you... that tears me up inside.

You always talked about how you always thought fondly of our time together, but did you ever once thank me? Do you even appreciate that I destroyed myself, that I let you destroy me, for your own benefit and got NOTHING in return except for constant loss? It’s too late now to be thankful. This also hurts me because yes, you will look back fondly at our time together, but those memories will fade when you get happier with someone else. I’ll fade from your life, from your memory, and become just a footnote in your past, someone you’ll vaguely remember. That’s the thing about joy and pain though; whereas you’ll eventually forget me because you’ll move on and be happy, I will always remember you as a destroyer in my life.

This is another reason why I don’t think you’re sorry, because you wouldn’t be in your current place in life without all the things I did for you. You can argue that we don’t know that for certain, but look at the facts. If you hadn’t gone through everything you did with me, every little detail of it, led you to him. Remove those events and you’d be in a completely different place in life. I want you think, every time you’re happy, of what it took to get you there. That all of your happiness now comes from breaking someone. Always remember that. And ask yourself, “was it worth it?” I don’t want you to regret me. I want you to feel the regret that you should feel over what you did to me.

I’m working on a project, detailing this in my own life. I hope to have it finished before I choose to post this. I may not get it done in time though. You may try to argue fate...but that’s bullshit.

“A free will saddled with tendency is like a game with loaded dice. It forces man through the struggle of playing, to bear responsibility and pay for the game, but the decision is weighted in favor of a tendency that he had no power to escape. If the tendency is of his choice, he cannot possess it at birth; if it is not of his choice, his will is not free.”

John Galt, From Atlas Shrugged, page 939

You can’t have “partial fate.” There is no “the one....” Only the one you choose.

So why were you worth it? What did you ever do for me? I loved you. And I know I’m writing in here, blaming you for a lot of the things. And I do wish to place the majority of the blame on you. However, there is that “sanction of the victim.” I’m full aware that I let you do these things to me, that I could’ve walked away at any time and stopped this mess. This is completely true, though I think people that truly love someone would do the exact same things I did for the person they loved. The far greater crime is that you knew I didn’t want to give up and continued to abuse that, used hope to keep me from walking away.

I think the reason I’ve had so much trouble writing this isn’t a lack of motivation; it’s not exactly that I want to write but can’t. I think it’s because I just don’t care anymore. Because even if I can’t find the right words to write down, I know in my heart, in my mind... that I’m right. And once again, I’m writing all these things for your benefit, to tell you what you should’ve realized on your own. Because you just don’t seem to get it. You once wrote “help me find a way to be truly sorry,” meaning you didn’t feel sorry. You asked Maryiah for help. And after what you put me through last April with Maryiah and you said to Tess that I needed to be strong enough to go through all of that on my own... you have no right to ask anyone for help... ever.

I didn’t want it to end this way, but I can think of no other options that guarantee what little peace of mind I can salvage from this situation. I believe you’ll feel the same way, that this shouldn’t be the end. There for a while, back from October or so to right up before our meeting in January, I felt like, even though I didn’t have closure, things were done between us. Like in September, after you broke up with me and came running back, I remember telling one of my friends that things felt different that time, that I didn’t think there’d be another repetition of you ending it and coming back; that if it ended, it’d be done. I felt that way until January, except after that, after all the things you said, it made me think maybe there was a chance or a glimmer of SOMETHING that could bring salvation to the past.

If there is or ever was, I can do nothing else. I’ve tried. Somewhere in the back of my mind, even as I started compiling all the information for this piece, I’d hoped I’d never have to actually use it. That something, somehow, would make everything right again. But it didn’t. So while this doesn’t feel like the right ending, it is, in fact, AN ending, which is more than I’ve ever really gotten before. And when you cry out to the world, wanting to scream that this isn’t right, that this can’t be real, you’ll know how I felt, every fucking day you weren’t mine.

So this is where I stand; I’ve deleted the text messages I’ve had in my phone from you since January. I’ve gotten rid of the last picture of you on my phone. I’m blocking you on facebook, AIM, skype, and yahoo. I’m deleting your number from my phone. I’m removing my subscriptions from your starred items and blog.

Do not try to contact me. Do not call me; I won’t answer. Do not text me; I’ll delete it. Do not email me or comment on my blog. If you do, I’ll change my blog link. Do not write me; I’ll tear it up without reading it. In the unlikely event that we should run into each other in public, do not approach me. You’ve had more than enough chances to say and PROVE that you’re sorry for what you’ve done; you never did. It’s too late now. You’ve had enough opportunities in the past as well to work out resolution with me. You refused to let go. It doesn’t feel like this is the way it should end, but I can’t keep doing this anymore; and if this is the only resolution I can get, so be it.

The only exceptions to this are as follows: I do hope that you will pay off your monetary debt to me. You may send that to me via postage. I believe you have my address but I will send it to you in an email a few minutes before posting this, just to make sure. Should you continue to follow my blog, you may comment on any short stories, lyrics/poetry, or novel selections-- ANONYMOUSLY-- and ONLY so long as they’re a formal, objective critique. Any violation of this - even once - and I change the link.

Lastly. If you send me an email with the subject “You’re right, I’m yours,” and it is a sincere statement, this is the only way it will not be too late to change my mind on everything I’ve written in this piece. You always talked about how it’d kill you if I wasn’t a part of your life. This is the only alternative you have to keep me in it. It should be me. I think you know this. For once in your life, do the right thing when it comes to me.

Please do not violate any of these. Should you choose to, I will get belligerent and do what I can within the power of the law to keep you away.

=======

You always waited, never tried, and spent your time waiting for something to happen in life. I realize that’s what I’m doing right now. I’m waiting for life to happen, but that isn’t how it works. If I destroy myself or my relationships with my alcoholism or other bad choices, at least it’s because of my choices. Congratulations. You really did do what no one else could. You broke me. But no matter how fucked up I am, no matter how hopeless my life gets, I’m through becoming you. I will never let myself come that close to being you ever again.

“Waltz #1” by Elliott Smith

Every time the day darkens down and goes away

Pictures open in my head of me and you

Silent and cliche, all the things we did and didn't say

Covered up by what we did and didn't do

Going through every out i used to cop to make the repetition stop

What was I supposed to say?

Now I never leave my zone, we're both alone

I'm going home

I wish I'd never seen your face

I’m not going to erase you, not anymore. You aren’t worth erasing. You aren’t worth hating, loving, or even pitying anymore. You aren’t worth anything.