Saturday, March 18, 2006
A small request. Could we please.
She's talking about me. She doesn't know she is, but she is. I'm the one with the tender soul. I cried when I read this, true to form.
A long time ago, this woman hurt my feelings. She didn't know she did, but she did.
She's a good writer, clearly intelligent, and shares a lot of the same interests and aspirations that I do. For that reason, perhaps, it hurt more when I was told she'd said I was emotionally abusive.
It hurt because it's something I fear in my myself. There is a part of me that has potential to be emotionally abusive. I'm smart and I'm intuitive; I know these things about me are true. I try so hard to use these abilities in a positive manner, but she was right about me in some ways, because there is always potential for me to use these things to be cruel. I have done so.
Poor Tony. I used to make him cry on purpose. Not because I didn't love him, because I did. I adored him. But sometimes he was just so damn cold and callous, the darkest part of me needed to find out if he still loved me in any part of his heart. If I could make him cry, he loved me still. I could grow addicted to that evidence. I am loved I am loved I am loved.
She told someone else I was emotionally abusive and perhaps at times I was. Maybe this is what I do when I feel unsafe. Maybe she was right. That rightness would, undoubtedly, make it hurt more. The truth hurts, I have heard.
It hurt because it wasn't true, too. I loved him. I loved who he pretended he could be, and I loved who he was when he was successful at being who he pretended to be.
Losing him was hard. I lost him many times and in many ways because I was unable to make a clean break. And so I lost him in pieces, painfully and slowly. I was often angry. Sometimes I said hurtful things to him in my pain. He was cruel to me too, though. You just didn't see that part because of who he carefully disguised himself as in that place.
He called me names. Drama queen. Show off. He cursed at me, often. And he told me to shut up.
It hurts to remember him. I wish I hadn't met him.
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2 comments:
I just read this for the first time.
I'm sorry that I hurt you. That is the most important thing to tell you.
It wasn't my intent. I'm sorry too, that I didn't understand or know the whole story at the time, but discussed it speculatively (and I thought privately). You and I never had the chance back then to really become close. Much of what we were dealing with individually hindered that I think.
I'm also sorry that said private and speculative conversation was used and turned into something hurtful to you, rather than whoever it was helping me to understand better or differently back then.
I'm so sorry for all those things. But mostly I'm sorry you were hurt.
I did know it was you when I wrote that, btw,though I didn't know you were here. :)
I am still glad we found each other again. I hope you are too.
*hug*
-me
I *am* glad that we found each other again. Those times were dark. I lost myself and I lost perspective back then. Today is a new time with a fresh outlook. Fresh enough to know what I did right as well as what I did wrong. Finding you and talking to you again was *right*.
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