—————————- Original Message —————————-
On Mon, September 10, 2007 5:41 pm, michael_barron@hotmail.com wrote:
> That exchange you posted got me thinking, and i think morrisey put it
> best, “why do i waste valuable time on people who don’t care if i live or
> die?” I’ve noticed that there are a LOT of people around, billions i hear,
> i reckon there are plenty of them worth investing in that are better than
> THAT guy. They may even respond in kind.
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Oh, irony… or perhaps (more aptly) projection. I find it both soothing and vindicating that eventually, time tells all things.
Eradicating the last bits of your presence from the mail server. Namo, namaste, and neverminds, you know. Goodbye and good riddance to someone who, some time ago, asked a very good question and then, demonstrated it to me so that I could learn how to answer it.
My anger and hurt may seem to be lasting longer than they ought, but then, you betrayed a lot more than you should have and for what may only be named your usual, selfish reasons.
The thought that soothes in this moment is that you’ll miss me much longer than I’ll grieve your betrayal and abandonment and by the time you realize it, I’ll no longer care.
It’s hard not to care in this moment. Not as hard as it was, but still a ways from ‘easy’.
I still think about how it was in the beginning, when I wanted to know the family and have the open honest friendship that we all deserved. I think the thing that makes me angriest is that I wanted this from the start, I asked for it from the start, and you lied and lied and lied to me about it.
Then, of course, when I put my heels in, you did what lying men always do — betray, abandon, disappear.
Stars, it was so hard not to batch up every thing you ever said and send it to your wife. I wanted you busted, revealed as the user, the liar, the deliberate betrayer.
I suppose you think I refused because of you. You would think that.
No, Michael, I refused because of me. And because of Sara. And because of Connor. You know, the people who only mean anything to you for how you can use them to polish the apple of yourself in your mind’s eye.
I’ve gotten rid of most everything. I cannot yet manage to get rid of the music. When you deleted it all from the online spaces, when you were busy and eager to hurt me and show me how little you cared, when you were making loud, shouting statements with all the silence you left for me to find… I told you then that the music was the only truly pure thing there had ever been between us. I’ve managed to delete the chat histories, the pictures, the many things I might have used to be like you and hurt you like you have me. But I have not yet managed to delete the music. I suppose I’m still not quite able to see it as other than the small sliver of purity and beauty that came from knowing you.
I am determined not to say anything more to you. I am determined to let the months and years unfold in the same, cold silence you left to me. Actually, I’m most determined to find the day when being able to remember how long it has been since you spoke or I spoke to you cannot be managed.
But, until then, the unsaid things come here, like so many unsaid things in life do. They come here to wilt, wither, and die. They come here so they do not have to live in my head. They come here to become compost from which more beautiful things, things I DESERVE may grow.
Five months and twelve days. Minus a month for accidentally including you on my new year’s mailing. I remember telling you, once upon a time, that if ever a month went by without you hearing from me, I would be dead.
I want to be dead to you, but not nearly as dead as I want you to be to me.
It will happen. with time.