Saturday, 28 February 2009

Please don't delete this....

I spent all of today's free time today so far writing this into an exercise book. I've never written neater in my life, nor more carefully. Probably because it's so important. This is what I wrote.

"Well, this doesn't seem to be the best post to begin with, since really, its describing an ending. I don't know who'll read this, but deep down, it's only written for one person, but I want everyone involved in my mess to read it and try to understand my stupid reasoning, even if the hate me, don't want to know me, or, worst of all, wish they never met me. As I explained to Justin once, I try so hard to be good because deep down I know I have an inherent selfish-heartless-I'll-tear-you-up-if-I-choose-to streak.
And finally, after 7 months, 1 Christmas, 2 love letters, 1 birthday and about 100 international text messages...
I broke Pete's heart.

Life has a funny way of telling us what we don't want to hear, of bringing us back to reality so fast, we don't know what hit us, or which way is up.
I began reading 'Boy Meets Boy' again the other day, and that's when this feeling of impending doom settles over my head like cotton wool - impairing my judgement an my senses. It's a contributing factor to what I said, did, thought. I have a habit of absorbing the text I'm reading, of becoming the essence of the book. This one's a sad, confusing one, but in the end a happy one, though in a somewhat left-of-centre fashion. This is what I've become. I finished it last night and then remembered that it took me a week to start recovering from the power of this particular book. I never really got over it the first time, now that I think about it.
But that's an excuse, and I'm not hiding from this any longer, least of all behind excuses. so, in lieu of that, this is what I need to say......

I knew that someday, sooner or later, I would have to end the love affair that consumed me so deeply for months. It certainly doesn't help that I'm a self-confessed flirt. This makes me sound terrible when I say that I began flirtations with a boy I go to school with, several months previously. [it is at this point that I remind readers that the arrangement between myself and the original boy were never official, and it wasn't until he called me 'my girl' that I thought that maybe this was exclusive. I know that's heartless, in a sense, but the fact that we're internationally predisposed does give this situation very unique circumstances.]
We had struck up a somewhat silent friendship over the course of our art classes, Jess' menagerie of animals within one drawing had all on our bench laughing and yelling out whenever we saw another creature peering out at us from the shaded curves and dark lines. That was the beginning. As of such, nothing came of it until a few weeks ago, I dropped my guard and told him I liked him.
Going by (and relying on) technicalities and definitions, going to the gardens was a friendship-bonding thing more than anything else. The beach was not.
Knowing this, knowing I was breaking every single relationship moral I have, was the final push.
But that isn't the main reason. Like I said, it was only the final push. That was the end. There was once a middle.

Life throws so many opportunities at me, I don't know where to turn. No matter what way I point my feet, I hurt someone I care about. It's enough to make me want to overdose on Panadol to try and block it out But as it stands, I couldn't do that - I haven't made my difference in the world yet. This is what goes through my head when I think of Pete, of me with him.
  • That love, his love, is unlike anything I've ever experienced. it departed from lust a long time ago and remained constant even when I voiced my doubts.
  • He's someone that I feel I could spent the rest of my life with.
  • But he's so far away, I'd be spending my youth - at least the next 6 years - away from him, waiting. I'll be 22 by the time I'm able to move closer. I can't wait that long.
  • It's the internet. try though i have, i cannot put down my guard, my suspicions, my doubt, so completely. Probably because i know how easy it is to veil the truth. How much damage was done the last time i gave in to someone totally.
  • I didn't want to say anything because i was, and still am, afraid that it will shatter him so completely that I'll be getting an email from an enraged someone, accusing me, yelling at me, telling me that I am the reason one of my closes friends is in hospital for doing something particularly stupid. No, that's wrong. He's not 'one of my closest' he is THE closest. My best friend. Whom I just destroyed. Yet another thing to OD over. [please note that this won't happen. its just me literising (is that even a word?) my feeling of hopelessness and guilt]
But he's angry at me now. The last message I got was him telling me I should be happy I'm not there. Though, I see one ironic flaw in this: were I there then none of this would have happened. But our experiences make us who we are, and I truly think that if there is a hell, I now have a first class ticket. I never promised not to hurt you because I knew that I would, someday, somehow, when I finally decided to admit the improbability of all this.
Though, truly, I'd rather have him furious at me, hating me, than having him sad and depressed, which I fear will come later. I deserve his anger, every ill feeling he can muster. I betrayed him, there's no denying that most people will see it like this. Though the love I feel for him is still here in my heart, and it always will be, I suspect I closed that door, blocked that road, with that very first admission of emotion.
I do this to clear my head enough to try and function at least slightly normally, to get my story out into the open.
And I honestly ask you, Pete, do you think we would have been better off if I had never been honest with you about what's going on in my head? I don't. So, to you, I say this:

Get angry, as much as you can muster towards me. Anger is more powerful than sadness, more productive. However you choose to deal with this is up to you, but even though I'm sure you don't want to think about, or know this....
when you are ready to let me be a part of your life again, if that's what you want, then I am here. I always will be. if not in the way we expect. I want to be your friend, and maybe if the circumstances are better than they are now (ie, living less than half a world away / you hating me) then maybe something more once again.
But I stress, this is all up to you. I am the bad guy here. I know that. I am asking you to tell me what you want, what you need me to do, and I will do almost anything. Even though I've more or less pushed you away with a very sharp, double-edged sword, I don't want to lose you completely. But if that's what you want, then that is what I will live with.
And even though I've said it before, I say it again: I'm more sorry than you can possible imagine for causing you this hurt. "

and maybe i shouldn't post this, maybe I should wait. I don't know, but I am posting it now, to show the world that I cut myself as deep as I did you with doing this.
Forgive me one day, please...........

1 comment:

  1. Believe it or not, your post kind of inspired me to write mine. Apart from the fact that you mentioned the conversation we'd had, in which we also discussed my... issue I guess, I just generally thought that it takes balls to say that. (And not that you look like a man. Gosh, I sound a bit stupid here.)