8:37 a.m. - 2002-06-12
An address and some thoughts on the situation
I see that Jenny is trying to make peace with her feelings about what's happened between us... or at least, trying to discuss it. I can't say that I haven't tried to do the same... just not here of course. Trying to reason with myself in my head, in emails I never send, written mostly just to vent and show me what I'm feeling... but none of it ever comes out. It's not time yet I guess.
I suppose I could be more direct. I'm not often the one to be labeled as reserved and indirect... I'm not all that obtuse and usually I try to be pretty upfront with people, except there's always someone who throws a wrench in the works. Can I explain why? No. Maybe. I'm not sure. I've gone over it a thousand times in my head and each time the reason changes.
Quite simply, I can't win the fight against myself. Strange that...
I suppose that half of my reluctance is due to a fear generated out of the beginning of all this mess. I could say so much right now. There's a lot in the front of my head, but yet... I've been burned once by writing in my journal. Because people choose to interpret things the way they wish given the way they read it and I don't think that's fair since they never ASKED me about anything... it's funny how only now I'm getting questions about the things written here... questions generated from people reading my journal who somehow mysteriously (probably through Akuda's profile) found me again and have continued reading probably just waiting for the next big thing to offend them and attack me over. I'm still hurting... that would explain my bitterness. No one told me again. Just started reading all over again. But this journal was sort of for that. So I guess it serves it's purpose. Proves my point to myself.
So will I talk about how I feel here? No, because I will only be attacked, ignored, the target of some anger or agression, I'll be called a hypocrite again, probably insensitive... who knows what else. Quite frankly I'm sick of everyone's labels and everyone's assumptions. If they thought about it all there's not much that I didn't tell them just not in so many words. I keep my anger, my confusion and my edginess to myself because I know it only breeds irrational thoughts as those that were often seen in my last "private" journal... I know that I don't often mean the things I fly off the handle about but I try to deal with them by getting them out and seeing them for what they are. Irrational thoughts and reactions. It's genetics... I get it from my dad, and I refuse to be like him and let my anger run and ruin my life.
I -KNOW- my weaknesses. I have my ways of dealing with them. I'm sorry that everyone doesn't understand that. I'm sorry that people make assumptions about things I write while I'm learning to deal with and understand things. I'm not sorry however that I have chosen that way to grow. I'm not sorry that I wrote any of it because it's better out and in some text file than in me where it is unobserved and unanalyzed and four times as dangerous to the people it was about than it was where they found it.
heh... the old adage "better out than in"... how very true. I only wish that assumptions weren't so prevelent. That instead of communicating to each other through stupid media such as this was not necessary. That we could trust each other with our hearts fully and completely to understand each other's patterns.
But then again... I guess we'd have to be mentally and emtionally close... and not everyone is able to do that and be that with everyone else.
Part of me is still waiting for apologies that will probably never come...
Jenny,
Things are f*cked up between us. We don't talk. We don't ever address the things that happened. Things are unresolved. I'm afraid of my anger around you and your beautiful eyes tend to dissolve it in an instant when you're near me. It makes it difficult on me. I don't know that we'll ever resolve this thing. I know I'm not strong enough to get angry at you face to face but at the same time I think it's a chicken shit move to address you about our past via email or online and even on the phone. It's a catch 22 for me. I -need- to see you but I know that it will absolutely kill me to do so. Does that make any sense to you?
The whole thing is screwy. It doesn't work anymore. You've essentially disappeared from my life. Our occassional emails consisting only of pertinent details to the subject and not even the slightest essence of the friendship we once shared. Any innocent bystander would probably chalk us up for old high school friends, not once-girlfriends, not once close friends. All which happened last summer. That's perhaps the saddest part.
I know that I don't often make the effort either but it's difficult to know what to say to you. It's difficult to be involved in your life when I'm here, you're there and neither of us are online much at all anymore. I don't know what you feel or how you think of me. I don't know what feelings you're even hiding from yourself. It's all a question mark.
We have a common weakness that sort of keeps me at odds with you, one that I can not and will not readily detach myself from because I love Him. That in itself may be the death of us, perhaps it was all along, who knows.
But once upon a time, we were friends. Once upon a time you were my girlfriend, my -first- girlfriend. Once upon a time we had great times, good conversations and we trusted each other at least forty times more than we do now. Once upon a time, we both could have been more honest with each other, but it's all in the past... it's all gone now leaving nothing but a handful of memories and notches in the bedpost.
Where do we go from here? Do we diverge happily and go one with our lives? Unlikely.
Do I have the answers to this one? No.
Do I want to? Am I looking for them? No.
Back to the general address:
Perhaps some veiw -me- as the bitch for handling things the way I do, the way that I have. Of course, I don't. I've had enough people look at the situation from the outside who seem to understand the complexity and they have not labelled anyone invovled. I suppose that is a good thing.
Someday perhaps we'll learn to live with each other again. Perhaps someday we'll repair bridges that have been so abruptly burned... perhaps sometime the messenger pigeons will start moving back and forth again.
I know, deep inside, that until there is sharing, until there is vulnerability exposed there will not be a resolution to any of it. I don't know that I'm any more ready for it than anyone else. I won't claim that I am. I'm still bitter about some things. I still think there's things left unsaid. I still think there's some breakthroughs to be made. *shrugs* What more can I do than prepare for it? What more can I do since I already prompted a recovery only to watch it drop off like a bad dream?
I'm not giving up, but I was done a long time ago.
Perhaps some will label it ego, but I'm done trying. I'm not done hoping, but I'm done trying to make things happen.
I'm just getting things out there because at least someone else is visibly trying as well. May as well try together. It's been successful in the past.
Even if we don't talk directly at least there's an expression of some thought, some feelings, at least I know -now-, not from second hand information, that someone actually -is- trying to actively work on the situation besides me.
I find myself rambling. It's all the things that -want- to come out but I won't let them pushing to the front and scrambling my thoughts. So many questions, so many irrational character assasination remarks. I'm glad I can control them, otherwise, we'd probably only be millions and millions more miles apart.
Part of me fears the reactions to this post, but I then remind myself that if no one asks, it's their own problem in how they interpret it. Yes, that certainly sounds bitchy but it's so true. I can be good with words, paint colorful pictures in people's minds if I want but this is not that situation. I'm not telling a story here... well, not really at least.
These are -my- thoughts. These are written from -my- head. My communication here is not in any way complete. The media doesn't allow for real-time questioning.
One more question that won't give up... One I cannot push away but one that is of little consequence since it's nearly rhetorical. An answer to this one may bring me some peace... IF, and only if, it is answered from the heart.
Why... why did you ask Him if you could read his, but never asked me if you could read mine?
