I completely forgot about the mass emails. Epic in length, heavy on the details, and now, when I look back, admiringly hopeful. What a difference two years makes.
Or maybe not.
When I was rifling through my old sentbox, I didn't expect to see his name. But there it was staring back at me. In one exchange, sent when there was an ocean between us, tips (sit under tree! try a new flavor of ice cream!) to help jog his creativity. In another, anguish over not hearing from him for days, his silence casting a pall over the City of Lights. How did I get to that point?
We should have been over. We were over. Weren't we?the --- and i are done.
chalk it up to ... i don't really know.
it's so freaking complicated/confusing/convoluted and prob some other twisty co- words.
i was in the city, saw him on tuesday and it was great.
then, i was supposed to spend the night at his place on wednesday and i get to --- round the time he gets off and he basically ignored me and then flipped out in his emo way and told me i should find another place to stay.
and blah blah blah.
he's kind of selfish. and a coward.
ah, i should be so relieved since things were getting so crazy serious, but i am just so so sad.
i cried and cried on wednesday and on the bus home yesterday.
i'm totally fine with people, but when i'm alone i feel the aloneness to my core.
gosh, i'm a huge downer. sorry y'all. but you guys are my support, and the action of writing this is making me feel a bit better.Sent days before my departure, January 9th, 2007.
In the two years that followed: months of the silent treatment, frustration, persistent phone calls, loneliness, attempts at friendship, manipulative behavior, longing, a second chance, tears. Both parties guilty of all of the above.
We are still talking. Unsurprisingly.
But I'm tired and stuck. I'm done. And I'm resolved.