Hey you. Yes, you
I don't know if you still read my blog at all. You unfriended me pretty quickly, and since I got a shit ton of traffic from facebook in the days right before that, and most of the posts accessed referenced you in some way... I can only assume you came here, read what I wrote about you a couple years ago, and walked away.
I read through most of those posts, and I can't say as I blame you. They're both flattering and cruel. I feel bad, on some levels. I always tried so damn hard to be honest with you. I really, genuinely liked you. Like you. But there was always something there that blocked my honesty. I don't blame you for that, of course. It was my own weakness, my own stupid, bullshit issues. Regardless of the reasons, every time I tried to open up to you, to pull you into my real world, I froze up.
The result of that is the posts you must have read. Truth, yes. I'm not ashamed of them. There's nothing in here that I didn't mean, nothing I shouldn't have been able to say to your face. In reality, there's nothing in here that's actually that bad. I've always tried to acknowledge the reality of my attraction to you, your attraction to me. As much as I've understood it, anyways. I think that's another reason I've always had such a hard time being open with you. I don't understand you. I don't understand my reaction to you. I try to make us friends, try to explore those facets of ourselves that connect on that level. But it never works. I always end up thinking about your dick way too much. It's never been just sex for me, though. And I think that's another facet of the problem. I don't want to be in love. You are somebody I could love. So, I run away. I don't believe that you could love me the way I deserve to be loved, so I run away.
I'm sorry. I would never, ever want to hurt you. Half of me hopes you see this and understand. The other half of me really isn't sure what she wants, as per usual when it comes to you.
But all of me wants you to be happy, to be whole, and to be healthy. I do love you, for whatever that means.
I read through most of those posts, and I can't say as I blame you. They're both flattering and cruel. I feel bad, on some levels. I always tried so damn hard to be honest with you. I really, genuinely liked you. Like you. But there was always something there that blocked my honesty. I don't blame you for that, of course. It was my own weakness, my own stupid, bullshit issues. Regardless of the reasons, every time I tried to open up to you, to pull you into my real world, I froze up.
The result of that is the posts you must have read. Truth, yes. I'm not ashamed of them. There's nothing in here that I didn't mean, nothing I shouldn't have been able to say to your face. In reality, there's nothing in here that's actually that bad. I've always tried to acknowledge the reality of my attraction to you, your attraction to me. As much as I've understood it, anyways. I think that's another reason I've always had such a hard time being open with you. I don't understand you. I don't understand my reaction to you. I try to make us friends, try to explore those facets of ourselves that connect on that level. But it never works. I always end up thinking about your dick way too much. It's never been just sex for me, though. And I think that's another facet of the problem. I don't want to be in love. You are somebody I could love. So, I run away. I don't believe that you could love me the way I deserve to be loved, so I run away.
I'm sorry. I would never, ever want to hurt you. Half of me hopes you see this and understand. The other half of me really isn't sure what she wants, as per usual when it comes to you.
But all of me wants you to be happy, to be whole, and to be healthy. I do love you, for whatever that means.
Comments
Post a Comment