Sunday, 05/25/03 - 3:32 pm.
He replied to my e-mail. I sent the reply to Victor (we were chatting online, between 10 pm and 12:30 am) before I read it, because frankly, I was scared to find out what he had to say. It was a short e-mail, this:
Saying hi to you with a new piercing in the body (well, the first real one).
Your message took me by surprise, because I feel kind of like out of place, as I don't know what I did and I don't remember when you made me feel uncomfortable. In a few words, it's a little vague. I mean, it'd be nice if you could explain it better, I hope you can answer this.
Yeah, ok, bye.
First thing that shocked was his grammar. It was perfect. Unlikely of him. Second, the naive yet kind, nice tone.
I discussed with Victor what I'd reply. He said I should explain it better, but I said no. I know I didn't explain myself very well. That's one of the reasons I never go telling people how I feel. I never explain myself the way I should and I end up misunderstood. It's not their fault, I know. I suck at being assertive, that's all.
- Me: I don't want to go on with this.
- Victor: so what are you gonna do then? Don't keep that doubt, ask him straight.
- Me: I don't know...what am I supposed to tell him? since I sent the e-mail, I've felt I really don't need to know the answer. Because after all, I know that what he did wasn't my fault. And he's gone, there's nothing to do. I don't want to know. I don't care.
I suppose to D I am still his high school acquantainces. I was hoping that, if he was still worth fighting for, he'd take the first step, he'd get in touch with me, because that'd show he still cared. No. I got in touch with him first. It's obvious he'd never get around to fix anything, because to him, nothing is broken.
And even if he'd walked away from me against his will, these 7, 8 months apart are enough for anyone to move on. One day he discovered he didn't need me.
- Victor: but I thought the point of talking to him was to clear those things up. There are millions of reasons.
- Me: of course. And it was.
- Victor: so if you talk to him, you'll know what happened. And you'll be able to go on with your life.
- Me: I will always go on. Either way, if he didn't get what I meant, it's because he hasn't felt anything, so we can go on, being the friends that supposedly have always been. I can live with that.
- Victor: maybe he did feel it, but he thinks you're refering to something that happened recently. So if you explain to him that you meant last year...
- Me: I don't want explanations anymore. I don't want to force any out of him, I can't even do it myself.
- Victor: just ask him what happened.
- Me: I don't want to know anymore.
- Victor: c'mon, write him again.
- Me: no, fuck him. I mean, I will reply, but what the fuck, to him I'm still a friend.
- Victor: so you'll stay like this?
- Me: there's no "better" choice.
- Victor: Ok.....but, damn...
- Me: I know, it stays unfinished. But smile.
(*bla, bla, bla*)
...but that's a tangent. The point is I'm writing to D. And I'm not telling him anything. Because in the era of the poweful telecommunications you talk a lot but say so little...
- Victor: aaaaaaask hiiiiiim. Ask him the truth. That's what kills, not knowing it.
- Me: it's embarrasing that it's been 8 months and I'm still on this subject. He'll think I'm desperate, he'll think I'm pathetic. And quite honestly, right now I only want to sleep.
- Victor: but don't worry what he'll think about you...worry about yourself. But if you say "no, I'd better not write him, I'll leave everything as it is, I'll be wonderful leaving everything as it is", if you say that, and you mean it, then I'll stop bugging you. Because I just want you to be ok.
- Me: But I am ok. Like George Harrison says, "it's all in the mind"
- Victor: maybe writing won't turn out ok, but you'll take a weight off your back.
Even if I know "oh, he did it because of this", that won't change the way I feel everytime I remember when he'd walk me by (without looking at me, even if I was crying), talking to that damn slut, or whoever else. No matter what he explains, that won't take away the pain of feeling worthless.
- Me: get me a little?
- Victor: yes...
- Me: if it was of some use, I'd do it, I really would. In fact, I've done much more than I thought I was capable of. I actually wrote to him.
- Victor: yes, I get it...
- Me: I don't know what to reply. I could ask him for the truth, but I'm not sure I want it. All I really want to tell him is that he hurt me so much, but he won't be the first or the last person to do it...and that I'm sorry I met him.
- Victor: why don't you tell him that?
- Me: it'd hurt me to tell him. It'd hurt me if he didn't care, and it'd hurt me more if he cared, because then I would be hurting him.
- Victor: you're right.
- Me: notice that after all his e-mail wasn't rude or anything? He was kind and seemed interested. And if I came off like a bitch...that wouldn't be fair.
*silence*
- Me: any opinions from the public?
- Victor: no......
- Me: well, I'm done. Dynamic, funny, rythmycal and above all...it doesn't say anything.
Piercing? (bla, bla, bla about piercings), I hope it won't get infected.
Well, I thought you knew. But if you don't, then everything's ok. You don't need to know. "Ignorance is bliss" Matrix stated. And it is.
The truth is I wanted to commit suicide and I wrote little notes to everybody. I didn't get to commit suicide, so forget it. It'll be some other day.
Have! a! nice! day! pal!
The suicide thing (at least part of it) is sarcasm, you realize. I don't think he'll take it seriously, it's not meant to be taken seriously.
I'll leave the thoughts for tomorrow. But I've given up. If he doesn't remember, not even a clue, it's not worth reminding him.
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