2001-10-11 (BTW, I'm not talking about you, whoever you are.) I caught a glimpse of an old email, in which you said that I had to have cared about her on some level, otherwise I wouldn't have cared if she lived or died. And I've been thinking about that. I'd like to say I didn't care about her. I'd like to say I was the bitch, the traitor, the cheater. I'd like to say all this, and I'm not sure why. Perhaps because they called me those things, and they can't be wrong. Because they (tm) are always right. Because they're my friends, and they have to be right. I don't know. I don't even know if I did care about her. There was something. Something in it that let me escape the everyday world that almost killed me. An escape, that's what she was. And someone I really cared about. Whatever the reasons were. She never realized that. At least not in the end. And I'm wondering. All of it, it's so hazy, so unreal, so... stupid. All of the memories have faded, I shouldn't think of it anymore. And yet, I'd like her to know I did care about her. Even if it tears down her belief that I did all this to her only because I was mean and didn't care. But. Sometimes I don't know if I cared. That's why it's so hard to talk to her about it. Because I don't know. It's easier to say that I was just abusing her, in some way. And she was abusing me, in another way. It gets so confusing. I wanted her to see what the world was like, and still, all the time, I wanted to die. Like I had to save her to be able to die. I think it went like that. I used to hope we'd kill ourselves together. Because I wasn't capable of doing it on my own. But that was when she didn't want to die anymore. So it was lost hope. I used to believe everything would turn out just fine if she just stayed alive. It would've wrecked me if she had killed herself, or even tried it again. It was an unbearable situation, of course. But. We did have fun together. Sometimes. And it helped with the bad times to know there was someone by my side. Like the day she took me to the doctor, forced me to go in. I mean, perhaps it would've been better if I had said that one day, to the pdoc, that no, I can't bear anymore and yes, lock me up. Perhaps it would've helped. But she was waiting outside and I couldn't afford to be weak. Because of her. I feel bitter about the way she didn't seem to realise how much love and energy and everything I used on her. What an effort it was to let someone so close to me. That's why I cried. Remember? On that roof, after I had kissed you, or you had kissed me. Because you were so scary. You were everything I wasn't. You could make it and I couldn't. And because, that minute, all those memories came back to me, and I hated the world and wanted to throw myself off the roof. Because you could make it and I couldn't. You never realised that, before last December. You wanted me to be so strong, so whole, something you could hold on to. And I wasn't that, and I'll never be. I'm not weaker than you, I'm just different. And you'll probably never realise how different. And I had to leave you. I had to, even if the relationship was a safe haven, in a way. Because I knew I wouldn't be able to escape through you like I used to. Because I couldn't escape anymore. And you thought I was getting better. But the truth is that breaking up hurt me as much as it hurt you even if I was the one who ended it. Perhaps just because of that. And this you didn't see. You didn't see the panic in me. You didn't see how I thought I'd kill myself and how much it'd hurt you. And I didn't want to be in that situation, I didn't want to consider you, I didn't want to think of you. I had so much trouble on my own, even. You doubled it. And you never realised it. I think I tried to be honest. I told you that once you were strong enough I'd leave you. But it wasn't like that. I left you when I was the weakest I ever was. Because I couldn't deal with all the pressure. And there was pressure. From you, from them, from everywhere. You didn't have that. Because you could change. You could hate. I'm not capable of hatred, mostly. Not of that protective hatred, anyway. I can't do it. Not like you. And sometimes I think it was me who was weak, not you. In the beginning, I mean. And the hardest thing I ever did was to leave you. I never wanted a future for us, because I didn't want a future at all. That's why I left you. That's what I never told you. I had it all clear, all the suicide plans done, I was so sure I could get away. I knew I had to get away. I just couldn't bear it anymore. And of all the people, I had hoped you would've understood it. But I guess I never told you that. Maybe I made a mistake, I don't know. I know I said I left you because I didn't love you anymore, and that I never really had. And that's true, in some ways. Because I loved you, more than an average friend, but I didn't love you in a romantic way. Not like you loved me. And that's why I always felt I was cheating. Because I knew I wasn't like you. You know, on the rooftop, seconds before I started crying, I was perhaps happiest I've been ever in my life. Before the memories came. You see, I was never able to escape the memories, and I was never able to tell you about them. I've never told about them to anyone. I can't. Because I don't know if it's true. Because I don't want it to be true. Because it's easier to just let it be. And that's what I'll always be doing, and that way I'll never escape it. But. It's my choice. Anyway. I wish you understood me. I wish you'd read this, but I know you won't. And perhaps it's better this way. I'll write to you, at some point, tell you something trivial about my life and perhaps you'll write back. And that'll be it. And I don't really want to change that. I've just spent all these years feeling so guilty, so... wrong. Because what I did was wrong, perhaps, but you once meant the world to me. In a different way than you felt for me, but the world in any case. You were my escape. You were my true friend. You were someone I loved in a way I've never loved anyone else. (Except R maybe. But even that was to a lesser extent.) I feel like screaming now. Screaming of pain, and of shame. I need my escapes, and sometimes I truly miss you. I wish we could be close once again, but I know you'll never let me past your shield again. (And surely that's my fault.) Sometimes I hate you because you're so utterly normal. You've the only person I'd use that word of. You're stereotypical, you're just like I always imagined people to be. There are little things about you that I never approved of. Your hatred for people, for example. Your hatred for a lot of things. Perhaps that hatred only, the mere fact it existed. Perhaps only that. I don't know how you do it. Sometimes I envy you. Sometimes I... respect your memory like you were someone who had ceased to exist. And in a way you have. Because you'll never be the girl I dated again. And... I sometimes don't know if you've changed for better or for worse. When I got your last letter, all I could think was 'worse'. But, in reality, you've always been like that. Superficial everything. But you know, you could be so much more if you just let people past your protective shield. Perhaps that'd mean 'more like me'. I'm not like you when it comes to people and friends, especially. You're different. Somehow. You remind me of Ta. We never talk about anything important. And you never talk to me about anything important. It was always me who shared things. I think you were so fascinated of me just because I told you things unlike all the people you used to know then. I'm no good with trivial chitchat. That's why I call you normal, because you were good at it, and didn't even realise you were doing it. I'm sure you'll be grand at some point of your life. You'll be happy, you'll meet the man you love. Get kids, perhaps. I can't imagine any other kind of future for you. Perhaps I'm wrong and you'll end up as a mad scientist. I can imagine you being happy with your life. Whereas I can't imagine that when it comes to me. I can't get through this blue, but you can. Better than I ever could. Perhaps because you had me, perhaps because you're different from me. I believe that. That you're different. Stronger somehow. I know you wouldn't be in the situation I'm in now. I never had your nightmares, but I never had your share of sunshine either. You're real, you're true, you can do it. I trust you on this. Perhaps more than I trust anyone else. You can go blind, and I know it takes you on the other side. It carries you. I can't close my eyes. I just can't do it. Remember when we played blindfolded? Took each other in the hand and walked each other blindfolded through the town. It was winter, I can remember that. I remember how you used to cry at nights when we had to go our separate ways home. That was in the beginning. Do you realise I had to look after you? How could I have left you without anyone to love? Do you still blame me? Oh, you don't understand. It had to end, one way or other. At some point. That's what I always knew. Nothing lasts forever. I don't believe in love. Sometimes I think that maybe it could've worked. Maybe we could've made it. But I can't love you like you loved me. I couldn't. And I'll never tell you why, and I'll never ask myself why. I hope that some day you'll find someone you love and who loves you, and no doubt you can make it even if I never could. I trust you. I love you. | older aion spindrift e-mail my profile diaryland.com