Take Another Look











{January 29, 2010}   Letter

Dear E. Downing,

I start asking why and the voices won’t stop. Please, can’t you just do that for me? Give me the answers and let me go. Let me go. Can’t you let me go? I bargain and bargain in my head and it gets so loud in there. I beg God, if I give away a kidney, will he tell me about the contradictions inherent in so many of the things he said? Will he please, please be straight with me? Will he tell me the truth? Or does the truth depend on his mood? Why can’t he just stick with facts. Tell me who he’s slept with while we’ve been broken up, or why his relationship status still says he’s in a relationship. Is it because he thinks we are still together, that we have not concluded our relationship? Is it because he doesn’t want to answer the questions people might ask if he puts single? And why, oh why, did he erase my message on his page when he knows it truly does hurt my feelings? Feelings he once cared about enough to not erase things and to promise he wouldn’t? How I hate reminding people of things they said and then didn’t do, I hate it, once spoken out loud I feel like the traitor for pointing out what was left undone. Like the nag, the hag, the rag. E, it hurt me so much to look at your page and see that you expressively erased a comment I left with pure intent, thinking the article would be of solid interest to you. On an intellectual level if nothing else. But instead you delete it as if to show me you can hurt me. Haven’t we already covered that territory? I want to know how good it feels to know you have the power to hurt me. Have you not felt powerful in a long time? I mean I would think you have too much power. You’re the boss and you are already really bossy. I have so much that is so important that we will never discuss. You have no idea how many conversations we can’t have. They over weigh me in their magnitude. Just the potential. And then, you want to believe I would care if you are fucking some girl right now. The truth is that I welcome it; at least then you will know not just hypothetically but viscerally that you cannot find what you had with me with anybody else. I try to find love and cover myself in it and then I feel like you yank the blanket away from me, why do you do that? You seem to care so little for anybody else. Every time the ball is in your court, and your dramas seem to be way more important than my little life. But other guys I talk to they talk to me like “holy shit your life is bursting with events and twists and subject matter that needs to be tended to.. and yet you are below zero maintenance girl.” You might say that is because they want to sleep with me. But I don’t know what you will say because the happiness is fading. It is fading and I don’t want to let it go, would you want to let it go? I sent you messages this morning because I felt this manic laughter rippling inside me and I wanted to share it with you, and in return I just felt waves and waves of sorrow that had an empty shell around it, as if the sorrow hated itself for existed, as if even the sorrow was supposed to fit inside the size of a mosquito’s needle. Why? Why did the sky fall on us? I thought you knew how to build a proper foundation. I want to know about your past, and you made it sound like my curiosity was something sinister when really it is childlike. I just wanted to know you. You made me feel abnormal for asking normal questions. I don’t have much of a sense of normal, and you took advantage of that. Oh, I’m well aware that I am very fucked up!!! but I was open about it, as open as you were closed. But I compromised.. I kept compromising. More than I knew I could. But you didn’t. When I wanted something, was it so important to keep it from me? What was so important that you had to lie to me everyday? Even the last time we spoke. It’s always the last time we speak. It takes my breath away and I’m back to being five again, during an asthma attack, and there is no oxygen. No matter how I gasp, I can’t get the air in. That is the feeling. That captures it. The big gap of what you won’t disclose to me. So what deep dark closet is so important that it has to be hidden from me? Are you really so self-important that keeping your secrets secret are more important than me or you or your life? I was part of your family. You said I was just a toy for your kids to play with. Even they would have been offended of that description of me, and there is so much shame in that statement. If you said it to hurt me it had no affecton me. I don’t know why. Sometimes I don’t recognize the worst things people say. Because, anyway, it never would have mattered? I still bargain. I say, dear God, if I had only not done this, or not said this, would it have been okay? Would he have not sodomized me like a boy in a juvenile prison? Would he have not clap clapped his whip and said, ah-hah, you came back, because in this damp place I am the only thing you have! Ah-hah! ah-hah! E, I could hurt you so much if I wanted to but can’t you see how much control I am exercising? Yes, I am not flawless, I write these things down after I cry or whatever things you probably thing are sickening, that sickening disgusting sincerity again, do we have to go through it again? I couldn’t hurt you. I know many ways to hurt a person. Maybe more than you. But I can’t. I won’t. I refuse to. Not even you could get me to hurt you. Is that why it’s over?

It would take so little. Is it so much to you?

These promises you make. They remind me of the hustlers who borrow money from me and never pay me back. Did they believe they would pay me back?

Was I anything to a mark to you?

I just want to know, dear lord, I just want to KNOW. Why? Should it matter? it matters to me so yes, it matters.

I would have sacrificed so many things for you and now I find myself in the position of my sacrifices being totally meaningless to you.  Because I wasn’t mean enough. I show my feelings too much. I tell you I miss you and you say you know, as if it is a burden you carry rather than a gift. I am so sorry I gave you myself because it made you feel bad. I’m sorry I can’t return myself to wherever I came from. I am tired emotionally, like somebody with a throat that can’t speak. If I come over tonight, will it all have been a bad dream?

Let it be a bad dream. Let it be a bad dream.

I need to get away from myself. From everything. I need to get away. If I can’t have him, and I can’t live without him, than I don’t want anything at all. I don’t mean that, do I? I know I feel as if he is the only person that can make me feel better. I always thought it was a lie when in books the writer described a physical sensation of pain on his chest. But I can feel pain. I can feel it as if I am drowning in my lungs, as if my heart is deteriorating from lack of will.

O Domina nostra.

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[…] The only time I successfully got my feelings down about him was down here…(link) and there are plenty of typos. Whatever. This isn’t like my old blog where i corrected things and tried to make it about good writing. This is just therapy.Or maybe water-boarding […]



Nicole says:

Wow I didn’t have a sense of perspective or self-control back then. The lack of self-control I knew I was lacking and it bothered me so much that a lot of my behavior was a reaction to feeling like I didn’t have self-control. A domino affect. Lots of typos in this thing. Guess I didn’t feel like I needed to edit anything. I just wanted to get whatever was inside me OUT. Looking back on it I feel bad at how desperate I was.. Nobody should ever feel that desperate. I guess what I had with E was fervent, piercing. I felt that fire for longer than he did.. I should be proud of that at least- it demonstrates that I can be capable of long relationships. I think something i hated myself for was that I broke it off. I think in the months after the breakup I said I shouldn’t have done that, and why did he have to take it seriously, why didn’t he fight for me to stay instead of making it seem like the only option? It was really only a way to grab his attention, to say, look, these things need to change. But then I was like, who cares if they change, all that matters is the passion we have. And then, MONTHS AND MONTHS later, back to summer again, I realized I missed his friendship. He was a best friend to me and the only thing I wanted was the closeness. But i wasn’t brazen enough to stop by unless he said he wanted me to stop by… and I was so tired of trying to read into all his insinuations. And his silence seemed pretty damn convincing. How could I believe he cared with such an entrenched silence? And even if he did care, his behavior was saying STAY AWAY.. and I needed to respect that, even if it was really hard for me.



Nicole says:

(I really did mean to break up with him but if it weren’t for a push from a friend- if that friend hadn’t come along, who, BY THE WAY, wanted to SLEEP With me- then I wouldn’t have actually DONE it. And if I’d had a chance to TALK with him instead of breaking up by changing my STATUS (very me lol) then I probably wouldn’t have gone through with it, EITHER. But the more impossible he made it for us to talk, the more it seemed he wanted us to break up. I did mean it at first.. at least my brain did. But my heart didn’t. So I felt very estranged with myself.) I lacked a large perspective on the matter. I was too involved with him to see straight. To see past my own emotion.



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