Monday, January 19, 2009

A Conversation of Sorts (Abridged)

Last night, despair boiled over into anger and anger into rage. I knew I shouldn't do it, but I called him. I had to yell at him. I wanted to make him hurt. I wanted to make him see what he had done. Not satiated with message that I screamed into his voicemail, I started typing furiously into IM.

Him: Geez.
Me: You don't have the right to "jeez" me.
Him: That was rather intense.
Me: So?
Him: Okay.
Me: What you did to me was rather fucked up. And its easy talk to you angry. So this is me talking to you angry.
Him: Fair enough.
Me: You're a fucking coward.
Me: I hope you're beginning to miss me.
Me: I hope you realize what you threw away.
Me: I hope when you fuck other chicks you think about me and know that you will never have the chance to break me ever again.
Him: I haven't been fucking other chicks.
Me: Right. I'm sure you also haven't been going out. You've probably been staying home, sad. Right.
Him: No, I have been going out with [a friend].
Me: And what does [he] do? Make out with bitches and fuck them. And you get drunk and do it too.
Him: I do go and get drunk. I have yet to make out with any bitches and fuck them.
Me: You shouldn't lie to me. Well, actually I suppose it doesn't matter. You spent the last 7 months lying to my face, pretending to love me.
Him: I'm not.
Me: You were just to big of a coward to leave.
Me: You fucking killed me. I hope you know that.
Me: It was completely unfair to give me that good last week. It was cruel to spend the night and then leave. Give me false hope.
Him: I'm sorry.
Me: No you're not.
Him: It was selfish and I am sorry.
Me: You can't deal with me. You couldn't even say happy birthday.
Him: You told me you didn't want to talk to me anymore.
Me: So for once you're giving me what I want?? When its convenient for you.
Him: I thought it would be unfair to call you on your bday.
Me: Unfair? Hahaha! God! If you only knew.
Me: I am a tattered wreck of a woman. You took everything.
Him: I don't know what to say. You obviously despise me right now.
Me: Despise isn't a strong enough word.
Him: I'm sorry.
Me: And you get to return to the way things were in Atlanta, and I and New York become distant memories that you are happy to forget.
Me: Have I made you cry yet or are you just annoyed?
Him: I think you're succeeding in what you're trying to do.
Me: What do you think I'm trying to do?
Him: Make me feel like shit.
Me: That's an added benefit, indeed. But mostly I'm just attempting to release some of my anger, it's easier when it manifests itself as outward rage rather and inward anguish. I'm taking advantage of this moment of clarity.
Him: Fair enough.
Me: You should feel like shit though. You were my best friend. And you took my family away from me in a matter of moments. And my dog. And now I am empty.
Me: I wont bother you any more. If you ever decide to speak to me that's your decision. I won't lie and say I'll be more pleasant, the resentment I feel is going to last a really long time, and the fact that I stupidly am still in love with you doesn't help that.
Him: It's ok, I don't expect pleasant.
Me: Good because you don't really deserve it

Unfortunately, yelling at him, trying my hardest to break him, didn't make me feel any less damaged--it rarely does. Now I just feel guilty for being cruel. I don't think I've ever sunk that low, been that mean. But now I can feel the bitter harpy in me beginning to take over, slowly rising to the surface, making my blood viscous and my skin leathery.

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