Victimized, Whiny, and Illogical (Explicit)

God, fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!


Never has someone made me feel like such a victim. You asshole, you.

I suppose all of this anger has just been lurking, just waiting for the one emotional catharsis that would bring everything to the surface. It has been waiting for the day that I truly understand how much you have fucked me up emotionally. For whatever reason, that day is today.

I wish you knew. But then again, you couldn't give a shit, could you? You egotistical bastard.

When considering the situation, I realize how fucked up it all has been. I guess all this time I've just been blind. I've been so infatuated I can't even see straight. Have you even realized how wrong this all has been? How inappropriate it is? I'll bet you have, and you've drawn your line in the sand. It's far from what is acceptable, but just close enough to me that you have been able to tear me to pieces.

The way you push and pull, the way you bait me with some precious shard of personal communication, it's all about you. You couldn't care less about how it makes me feel, could you? It's all about the attention you receive from me, the attention that I've been so naively ready to give. You have known all this time that all you had to do was say the word and I would be there. You had me wrapped around your little finger.

Do you realize that all this time I've been so close to living for you and you only? I've sat and I've waited for you to reply to my messages. I've jumped from conclusion to conclusion, hoping that maybe you were just busy, hoping that we would fall back into the same routine of casually talking. I know it didn't mean that much to you, but the fact that you went out of your way to communicate with me meant a hell of a lot to me. Because that's what you did. You went out of your way, far past what was appropriate, to talk to me. Every opportunity you had to be the mature one in the situation was thrown out the window and you cannot deny that. The sick part is that I wanted you to throw out those opportunities because I always wanted you as close as I could get you.

I'm not even sure how you did it, but you managed to fuck up my personal relationships. Everyone that knows about you really can't stand you because they saw what I wasn't able to a long time ago. They saw that you had your best interests in mind and no one else's. I'm not sure why you would jeopardize yourself so much in the process, but I guess that's what you would sacrifice for this kind of attention that you were able to manipulate so easy. The guy I've been seeing? He would like nothing more than to knock your teeth out. I've told him everything, and he realizes how fucked up it's been, and how much you've fucked up for me. You have left me emotionally tangled, which sucks for him, because he's the one who has to be here to help sort it out. Maybe that's why you hardly stuck around to be there for me. You knew you would have to get far too close.

It's funny that even though you were relatively detached, you hurt me so badly. I don't even know how you managed to do it, but you did. Congratulations.

The verdict's in. I wish I had never laid eyes on you. I would give up everything I've learned from you just to take back all the pain you've caused. Maybe my parents wouldn't have to blow their paychecks on medication and therapy sessions if you hadn't come around and broken me. Maybe I would be able to have a healthy romantic relationship without thinking about you, or just have a healthy romantic relationship period.

Maybe you'll read this. I doubt you will, because you have more important shit to worry about than that stupid little girl that you played around with too much and broke. If you do, I'd like to remind you of your own words. "Don't scar that heart of yours," you said. Well, it's far too late for that now. I became far too vulnerable, so I suppose it's partially my fault, but it doesn't change the fact that you took advantage of my emotional vulnerability. I didn't realize how much potential you had to scar me so badly because I was too infatuated. For once, I wish you had acted like an adult. I wish you had seen reason. I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone else.

But you deserve to know that I am aware that it isn't just me, either. You've done this before, and you'll do it again. You would have to be stupid not to realize what you're doing, and you are far from stupid, so I know you're doing this intentionally. You never gave a shit about us like you implied you did. You fucked with all of our heads. Just know that I'm the one who will never shut up about it. I'm the one who won't let it go.

God, you're so worthy of my hatred. You deserve it.

I just wish I could give it.

Story of a Boy, as told by me last June

I was looking through a journal that I used at the end of last June into July while I was in Costa Rica, and I found a little story of a boy I used to know. I liked it, so here it is:


"Sup?" asked the blue eyed innocence standing in front of me. He tripped a little over the slight incline on the edge of the parking lot, but continued to smile.
There was something about him that was extremely comfortable, and seemed like a worthy, becoming characteristic to have in a friend. He had only come to visit, but it was the first warm day of sunshine in February and I needed to go with him.
We jumped into the back seat of his dirty car along with his best friend and mine, and drove off without a care in the world. I don't remember feeling that free a moment in my life.


"We're driving now," his voice came through the phone. "I think we passed your house."
I quickly instructed him to turn around, and ran to the end of my driveway to meet them.
A dingy Burger King seemed to be the best option although we were approached by beggars in their winter coats, craving the warmth of the day before.
Back at my house, I laughed harder than I had in a very long time. He told me almost everything, and kissed me while the third wheel stepped out for a smoke.
I didn't understand the comfort I felt. I was one hundred percent myself, not stifled as I was in usual company. It was like relaxation therapy. I wasn't at all self conscious. 
We intertwined on the couch in the most awkward positions which felt right to us. I didn't know loneliness anymore.


He said he was sick. It seemed like an eternity that I didn't see him, although it was less than a week.
He came to visit on a Thursday. I saw him park and walk toward me, then walk right by me. His mind was in another place.
He slept all day and wasn't returning my calls. I didn't realize yet, but my fairytale was crashing to the ground.


"I'm talking to her again. The same feelings are coming back," the text message read.
He was slipping away from me, returning to the manipulative witch that had put him through hell. I blindly grasped at whatever tactics I could think of to keep him, to make him see sense. I didn't realize that he had already made up his mind.


The once comfortable group of three sat in the same living room, this time nearly in silence. There were a few moments in which a spark of fun and carelessness returned, but it was hardly the same as that cold yet lovely evening which seemed so long ago.


I walked them to their car, which was parked around the bend. We started lightly arguing. I didn't mean to, but I called her a bitch.
"Why do you care so much?" he angrily inquired.
"Because she's in Colorado while I'm right here," I replied, slamming the car door.


As I walked away, I saw my shadow's contrast go in and out on the pavement. He was flashing his headlights, to which I replied with my middle finger. Angered, he laid on the horn.


"Fuck you!" I hollered back.


He sped off into the dark as I ran home. I wasn't crying. You don't cry when you are completely numb.


I didn't see his name appear on my phone for weeks. I don't know if I wanted to talk to him. We had only known love. We had only known our attempts to cure each other's loneliness. 


The next I heard from him, we went in the usual group of three to the mall and Qdoba. I hardly said anything because I knew it wouldn't be heard. He said I was attractive. I didn't answer him. When I left, I simply told him goodbye.


She felt threatened. She made him stop talking to me altogether, which further pushed my point that she was insanely manipulative. I didn't really care; at least, not at the time. He was under her spell, and as long as that was the case, he wasn't worth having around. I had someone new in my life that could potentially take his place.


He disappeared entirely from all of our lives for a while. She had his heart and mind, and he didn't have the energy for the rest of us.


She left him and he instantly came back into existence. He began acknowledging my existence, as well, with a friend request on Facebook.


The next day, I saw him. I wasn't at all expecting to. but we went for a drive with a friend. He told me that I had been right about everything, to which I replied "I know." He acknowledged my lack of hair and told me I was beautiful. I wasn't beautiful for him, but he didn't know that I had made the decision to chop my long, curly locks partially because I didn't need the reminder of his fingers immersed in them.


I knew he was simply telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. It wasn't as real the second time around.


When he dropped me off where I needed to be that evening, he got out of the car and gave me a huge hug. I felt a spark of comfort there in his arms. "Where have you been?" I jokingly asked him. He said he didn't know, but he did.


Now the only conversation we have is the exchanging of "I miss you"s, yet neither of us has made a huge effort to close the distance. We have different priorities. He is focused on his new job, getting drugs into his system and looking for quick fixes to his loneliness while I am focused on getting a job and figuring out who I am and what I really need. He abandoned his aspirations a long time ago while mine are still very much alive. Sometimes I wonder if we need each other. It would make sense, since we are nearly polar opposites and could open each other's eyes to so much.


It's strange, because he seems like such a large part of my life to this day, even though our relationship was not infinitely deep and we were together for such a short time. I think I love him. I'm not in love with him, but I care for his condition more than he knows. I have all of the solutions to all of his issues, but I know from experience that he doesn't want to solve his problems, and that I have to let him live out this stage in his life on his own. Maybe when he figures his shit out we could fall in love. I don't know. I'm lonely just like he is, but I'm allowing time to get everything together in my life before I can be anything in someone else's. We're all so young and it's ridiculous that we should feel this old and this heavy.


I do wonder quite a bit if he ever thinks of me. I highly doubt it. Maybe I will ask him about all of this someday, someday when neither of us will take it so seriously. That's part of my motivation for recording these events. I'd like to see how my feelings change.


I don't know if I'll ever show this to him, or tell him how all of it made me feel. It doesn't really hurt that much anymore. Lastly, I want to remember that strangely, I never cried over him. Maybe someday I'll know what that means, or if it means anything."