Closure.

July 7, 2007 3:52 AM

ou destroyed me. Literally--nothing about me was the same after you left. I had been sad before. I had hurt and hated myself. But I had a hard time leaving my room for two weeks after you. And even when I could rouse myself from that slumber, I hated every single moment of it. Nothing about my life was the same. Nothing. Yes, the people around me were a constant. But, without you, I couldn't understand anything that happened.

Do you remember that time I played at that open mic night? We climbed that mountain together and we talked, and I showed you how, if you put your key fob between your teeth, you could extend its range? Remember how I could set my car alarm off from hundreds of feet away? I remember how you looked at me that night. I played "Staring at the Sun" by U2. And I played it just for you. And you knew that. But all you cared about was Toad the Wet Sprocket.

There are seven numbers that I remember. I cannot forget them. They are part of me. They are part of my soul. Those seven numbers were the key to everything I cared about. They represented everything I loved. Those seven numbers were you. I used those numbers when I was sad, when I was happy, when I was indifferent, when I needed something, when you needed something, when I just wanted to tell you that that I saw something that reminded me of you. And you used a different set of numbers in the same way--a set of numbers that lead to me.

I took up the profession you left behind. I remember you warning me not to come here. I remember the day I decided what I was going to do. I remember you telling me that I could do this, but telling me that I shouldn't.

I hated you when I first met you. And then I loved you--perhaps more than I've ever loved anyone. I wish I could say that I hate you now. But I don't. I love you. I miss you.

I know what I would do if you were here now. I would tell you that what you did was unacceptable. And then I would hug you. And I would forgive you.

And I hate that about myself. I wish I could forget about you. No. I wish that I could remember you and learn from the things you did.

Sometimes I think I did learn. But I'm afraid that I'm confusing learning for confusion. I'm afraid that you were crazy. I'm afraid that you were crazy and I wasn't smart enough to realize that. I'm afraid that, because you were crazy and I wasn't smart enough to realize it, I'm now using your actions to measure other people. And I'm afraid that that's unfair.

You made a mistake. I want to blame myself. But I can't. You made a mistake. You fucked up. I don't know if you've ever realized that. I bet you haven't. But I guess it doesn't matter. I'm the one that has to live with your mistakes. And that's exactly what I've done.

But I'm through with that. You made the mistake--not me.

I don't know where you are, but I know you'll never read this. And I don't care. Goodbye. Forever.

1 Comments

lily said:

Aw, cupcake.

PS. I really, really hate your service error message.

July 7, 2007 11:58 AM

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