(So today in Mental, my teacher talked about how therapeutic writing letters are when you have no intention of having the person in question read it... I'm sure nobody would want to read it, but you know what, fuck it. It's my letter - it's gonna be what's on my mind and that's not always the most positive or interesting of things, so just a warning)
Dear You,
How are you?
Want to hear something that's silly? Sometimes, I wish we were still friends, if only because you knew me better than anyone. It's kind of funny how you managed to do that when you didn't know me at all. I mean, I never really let you know me completely. I wasn't ever consistent and maybe I'm not in reality, but sometimes things would bother me and other times they wouldn't, a concept that we both practiced and neither of us understood. It's kind of funny how our problems boil down to not knowing each other as much as we thought we did. It's funny how we never knew that.
I can't decide if I was myself around you or what I thought I had to be. It's really difficult to tell. Sometimes, I wish I could re-watch everything happen - purely for scientific reasons and it'd give me peace of mind. It's funny how I was all gun-ho about getting closure for us and I'm the one with the least closure. I think it's because you didn't need closure, which I think is bizarre, but then again, maybe it's not. Maybe you didn't like me as much as you said you did, which would explain the times where you displayed actions that didn't match up with your words.
My Mental teacher talked about how we all have instincts, but as we grow older, we ignore them, because we end up trusting what people say to be true, especially when it comes to proclamations of love. I've always been a hopeless romantic; I should have been more aware that it would lead to a situation like this. There were times in the relationship, obvious ones, where I had the fight-or-flight instinct kick in where I just wanted to run away. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened differently if I ran sooner.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I ran when I first had that instinct. We started dating in the summer, remember that? The awkward first date for the awkward couple. I look back on that so fondly. Despite how tumultuous our relationship was, I still cherish that day. In fact, I cherish that whole first month of dating, because it was truly my twitterpated moment. Everything was new; I had no experience and I had no idea what I was doing. You were my first date, first kiss, first time riding in the car with a boy by myself. I was completely set up for the fall. Our date was simple enough, but not nearly simple enough to be free of awkward. I accidentally got charged for two movie tickets, because I got tongue-tied at the box office. I bought tickets for the wrong time for the movie, so we had to wait longer, standing awkwardly in the lobby. I'd never gone to the movies and hung out afterwards, so when you suggested we do that, I was at a loss of what normal people do. We walked around Bell Tower shops and went to Moe's for dinner.
Want to hear something really funny? I still have my Moe's cup. I kept the damn cup I drank out of that you refilled. I kept it even after all of this. A cup I used in summer 2008.
It was like you knew exactly what to say, while also being awkward at the same time. Then the night we first kissed - when I took you to my precious summer camp, the place where I've had so many fun summer memories when I went there. We looked at the stars together as we sat on the empty bleachers and you chased me around the baseball fields, tickling me, and when you finally caught me, you whispered in my ears asking me what I wished for and I managed to run away, only to have you catch me again. You had me cornered between you and a fence and you just looked at me and you asked me what I wished for again. I looked at you and told you that if I said, then it wouldn't come true, but that I thought you had a good idea of what it was. You grabbed my hands and held them behind my back as you leaned in saying, "I think I do." And that was it. I mean, stars, bouts of tickling, whispering in my ear, kissing me like that... what else was a girl supposed to do?
But that's just one of many happy memories, memories I wouldn't trade for anything. Not many people can say their first kiss was a great one, but it was. It was both our first kisses (or so you said. I believe you, if only because if I didn't, I might have a mental breakdown, because it meant so much that we were each other's firsts for so many things).
I'm not here to talk about our good times though, because you know those, whether you remember them as vividly or often as I do, or if you just ignore them.
I should have ran when we went to the Homecoming football game, when we spent most of the game separated and spending time with our own friends. You came over to see me and I stood in between you and Kyle - in all the excitement of being with my friends and you, I accidentally grabbed Kyle's hand instead of yours, because you always stood on my left and in this instance you were on my right. So, I quickly grabbed your hand and you hadn't even noticed. I felt guilty, so I told you what happened while we were leaving the game and you exploded at me. Not even an exaggeration, because your reaction not only took me aback, but also left me speechless. You told me to fuck off and you proceeded to storm off to the car, when you had given me a ride to the game. I chased after you, saying that I was sorry, but it didn't matter to you. When I caught up to you, I grabbed your arm, and the expression you had on your face looked like you thought of me as the worst human being on the planet.
That's when I should have left. I mean, true, you could say that I did something wrong, but it was not THAT wrong. It wasn't wrong enough to warrant that kind of a reaction or to treat me like I wasn't even worth talking to. Because let's face it, you did that a lot. Mostly whenever it involved Kyle, but oftentimes I wouldn't even have to do anything for you to tip over the edge of sanity like that - I merely had to be in the same room as him. It went from just him to spreading to everyone else regardless of gender. That's another moment I should have left.
All these windows of opportunity and I never took them. Why? Because I ignored my instinct. Because I thought you really loved me. Because I thought you loved me so much that you wanted me for yourself and that your reactions were status quo for relationships. Maybe because I thought you could change. Maybe because I hoped it was a phase. Maybe I thought I could change myself enough that you wouldn't be that person anymore. I remember we used to call that side Evil Dick, because that's what you were: a complete jerk.
It escalated, as abusive relationships often do. Berating me in private wasn't enough, so it progressed to hurting me physically. For lack of a better word, bashing my head into the car window, choking me, grabbing my arm despite me trying to pull away. Hurting me psychologically, because I felt like I couldn't talk to anyone, a problem I had even after you stopped being a massive jerk. Being a hypocrite about how I couldn't even have male friendships, but you left me when I was crying during play practice to go talk and joke with Maureen.
I tried so hard during the relationship to look past the bullshit to see why I really stayed, because I liked all of the good times and I didn't want to lose you. But damn. It messed me up so much that for awhile I couldn't even talk to Maureen without being jealous of her, something that I still have to talk myself out of, because I don't have a "reason" to anymore. Because it wasn't Maureen's fault, it was yours.
I just wish I could know if you ever at any point in the relationship truly loved me. Is that wrong? Not like it would erase anything that happened, but I'd just really like to know. I want to know what kind of person can look into a girl's eyes and tell her that he loves her when he hits her, cusses at her, isolates her from everyone she used to talk to... I want to know if you were really that kind of person or if you just directed your anger in all the wrong reasons.
I want to know what makes a person think it's okay to ball up a shirt and shove it up a girl's vagina, because you worried that you came inside of her. I want to know what person does that with such force that the girl falls from the bed, ugly crying her face off, in a crumpled heap on the floor. More importantly, I want to know what kind of person would even WEAR that shirt after the fact... washed or not. What kind of sick asshole would do that to someone they claim to love? It's no wonder we had so many problems. I couldn't rationalize the words with the behavior, so there was a constant divide between reality and fantasy. I wanted to believe that you loved me and that all this rage was just you not knowing where to properly direct that in an adult manner.
I want to know why you ever made me feel like it was my fault for crying or my fault for reacting when you'd get upset like that. You'd tell me that you were just trying to express yourself, because you're always so busy making me feel better about myself that you never get the chance to just vent.
I remember one day just physically yelling at you in the rock lot after play practice one day, a play practice in which you treated me like shit, and I just stood my ground and said no. I was yelling and crying and it was like you finally heard me and I really thought everything would be okay, because you seemed like you were sorry. That wasn't the end of it though.
Soon came the debacle that was any and all of the cast parties during senior year, which I cried at all of them. Soon came the whole t-shirt sex incident in March. Soon came the whole pushing me down in the rock lot in front of people who worked at school, having Stejskal and LT lecture us in separate rooms trying to figure out what happened. You asked me prior to lie and say that the reason you pushed me down was because I threatened to kill myself and you were worried that I would. And do you know what I fucking did? Well, of course you do. I lied to help you out so you wouldn't look like the bad guy.
I had to deal with Stejskal looking at me with such a pitiful expression on his face. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how it feels knowing it probably wasn't just him watching over me like that, because of that incident? All because I didn't want you to get in trouble, because I was scared we'd be forced to break up. Remember when that used to be the end of the world?
Remember what made us break up? Remember what the tipping point was? You had lied for almost 2.5 years about something that wasn't even that big of a deal. You lied about whether or not you liked someone before me. Not only did I ask you before we started dating, but randomly afterwards, because I thought it was so fucking bizarre that there wasn't ANYONE you liked before me. And then you just randomly discover this, after 2.5 years of dating, after 2.5 years of me asking if you were sure. Cherry on the ice cream was the fact that after 2.5 years of dating, you didn't even know my phone number.
It's really sad that when it comes to happy memories, a lot of them are clouded by this bullshit. The bullshit that could have all been avoided if I just listened to my instincts. This doesn't even begin to cut it when it came to what you put me through. I admit that I wasn't a bed of roses either, but at least I didn't make you lie to faculty for me or assault you or physically, emotionally, or mentally abuse you.
I'm constantly torn between wanting to completely forget you and wanting to hold onto the memories so I know what I don't want. I've kept all the Facebook messages you sent me, which are a lot, many of which are full of spite and anger.
I can't help but wonder if your current girlfriend knows. I hope she does. Maybe you're not that person anymore, but to pretend you've always been this great guy physically disgusts me. To know that you're happy right now is revolting to me. I'm not sure when that feeling will completely go away. I hate that feeling, because it's almost like it's holding me back. I'm not sure how to become okay with all these memories I have. I'm not sure if time alone will heal that. I'm scared it won't, that I'm just going to be perpetually in this state of bitterness.
I feel jaded, like love just walked into the room and slapped me across the face and told me that everything I ever hoped for or wanted is a lie, that my standards won't ever be met, and my standards aren't even exceptionally high.
I don't want you back. That I know with certainty, but I can't even appreciate what crock of a relationship I have now, because I unconsciously compare you two. I barely spend time with Blayn, whereas I spent all my time with you. I feel lonely in both cases, because Blayn won't try to invite me to hang out and he doesn't text me. I remember looking forward to sleep, because I didn't have to text you for those brief hours.
Despite all of this, I miss your friendship. Isn't that the biggest hypocrisy/joke/irony ever? I miss the friendship of the boy who singlehandedly ruined many aspect of my life, aspects that haven't even completely corrected themselves. Out of all of my high school friendships, many I held near and dear to my heart dropped me. I sat alone at lunch; I sat alone in church. The only time my friends ever acknowledged me was during class, but if I tried approaching them after school, I'd often get ignored or skipped over. I don't hate being alone. I hate being alone when the people I loved so much just decided I wasn't worth the effort, without even asking me if everything was okay with my relationship with you. The only one that ever said anything about it was Julia and that was just because she didn't have someone to bitch at. Look at how replaceable I was. Even with you, look how easily and quickly I was replaced by someone older, more fit, and more experienced than I am.
I hate feeling like I'm replaceable. I don't mind being alone. I just hate having my existence completely ignored or just not important anymore. I hate knowing I called those people my friends when they really weren't, when they were only friends with me when I fully dedicated my time to them.
You want to know something funny that you never quite understood. I only talked to my friends during school hours or when I was on campus. My friendships never extended to after hours or on the weekends. The only people that would want to hang out with me was Julia or Lori, both of which I'd have to tag along and be the third wheel to all of their dates, because they'd lie to their parents about who they were with. I can't tell you how many movies I've been to where I had one of them making out with their boyfriend while I was right there. None of my friends asked me to hang out. I'd only ever get invited to "parties" and even then, it was almost as if I was expected not to show up. I don't know if that was because I seemed like the sort of person who wouldn't attend non-alcoholic parties, but I often felt like my existence was something very much transient.
That I only appeared when it convenienced someone or because I would fill the role nobody would want, like Julia's ear. I still hold onto those feelings even today and maybe that's just always been a core part of me: this transient being. I guess that makes me duplicitous, because I want people to like me. I want people to be unable to replace me. I don't want to be replaced again. I don't want to deal with the loneliness and emptiness that accompanies that realization. I felt truly alone and lifeless that first month we broke up and I was the one to end the relationship. I lied to my parents, saying that I'd go out when they were at work, when I'd just sit at home vegetating. I wouldn't eat unless my parents ate with me, because I always had you to eat with me. I had no friends to call up and ask if they wanted to hang out. I was scared to start college again. I contemplated not going. I had given up the only friend I had, a best friend, and the only boyfriend I had ever had. I didn't make friends during my freshmen or sophomore year. Who would I talk to?
I remember crying in front of my parents at the mention of your name and how I couldn't even answer simple questions, such as "why are you so upset?" I couldn't handle it.
Everything changed once it became January though. It was akin to the phoenix rising up from the ashes and it was like I was this new person. I made new friends, regained a couple old friendships, assimilated back into my family dynamic and became happy.
I'm still happy. I have the two best friends anyone could ask for, even if I may have problems with them, problems I wouldn't express given my friendship issues above. I have the most understanding family ever. They make me laugh and make me feel loved. I have close friendships and I've made friendships I never would have had if I had stayed in that relationship.
But you know what, I still wish I had you in my life. Maybe that's because I lost my virginity to you (which, sorry to say, I regret doing even that, because now I'd have to cross another hurdle I'm not comfortable with, because I always said I only wanted to have sex with one person and now... well, it should be obvious that it won't be the case). I just miss talking to you, because you were the first person I had a truly dorky conversation with and the first one that I really opened up to about my anime obsession.
I hate that my little cousins keep asking where you are during the holidays and having to tell them that you're not coming, because I don't know how else to explain it.
I think I wouldn't have this bitter feeling towards you or your girlfriend's happiness if I actually felt comfortable sharing this with you and knowing you'd read it, rather than skim over it. I mean, you did live it once, so I guess you wouldn't have to read it. But the first step in communication is actually listening to each other. Ting. I miss our inside jokes. I miss the us that was normal, which was when we were simply friends with each other. When we weren't bickering or fighting each other, we really were best friends and I miss that so much. I'm regaining that feeling of friendship through Ashley and Tito, but of course, it's going to be different. Of course, I'm scared, because there's nothing keeping them here. They aren't dating me, so they don't have to feel obligated to be there for me. They're dating other people and then I have that to worry unnecessarily over, because my relationship pales in comparison and maybe they'll do to me what I unwillingly did to them, which was basically stop being around. I don't think I'll be happy in a relationship like I used to be. I don't know if that's possible.
I wish I could have been more honest with you from the beginning. Maybe I wouldn't be so stunted now. Maybe everything could have been different if I stood up for myself that Homecoming football night. Maybe all of this could have been avoided if I had been my own sassy gay best friend.
All I know is that I miss you. There. I said it. It's out there on the internet. I miss knowing I didn't have a wall up with you, when serious conversations were easier. Note that I didn't say easy, because I'm no good at seriousness.
Your friendship is something that's not easily replaced and I mean that... even if you were a massive jerkface and even if I can't get over how you treated me, I still miss you just the same and I can't tell if that makes me the stronger person or the weaker. I just feel like if I sat with you and really talked to you, talked until all of this was put to rest and done with, that I'd be better for it. Not like a quick sweep under the rug, but a complete fix, where I'd either never talk to you again or we'd just be acquaintances at best.
I wish those were viable options, but I'm too scared to ask, too scared to encroach when I've already encroached enough... when I promised I wouldn't be the one to ask if I could see you, because the last time I did, you acted like a disinterested asshat and that hurt my feelings more than it should have.
And so concludes this mammoth of a letter at 1:33am when I should be sleeping or doing homework or doing anything but reminiscing over this. Scumbag brain made me want to write this out in hopes it'd make me feel better, but I think the opposite occurred, because I know there's no point and that this won't solve or help anything.
- Jessica
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