Enemies And Self-Identity
Do you have any enemies?
I do.
Or I did. It's possible he's indifferent now, but for awhile there his hatred of me was strong enough that I could feel the heat if I got within fifty feet of him.
It's interesting how that works. How you can go from madly in love with someone to picturing his or her head exploding and enjoying it. Or madly in love with someone to almost fearing him or her.
I checked out his former blog today ... It will be disappearing from the Internet soon, if I remember Blogger rules correctly. (Two years without activity and it's gone. Kind of a long life, actually.)
I was surprised that I could remember the address, but there it was. I was more surprised when I read a couple of his entries from the time right after us and felt ... nothing.
Nothing, where I used to feel guilt. Mild irritation -- an eye-roll at best -- where I used to tear up. All of those big emotions are just plain gone now, and I'm strangely comfortable with that.
Let's face it -- there are certain levels of emotion that are meant to be released at some point in time or you'll never make it. And everything where he is concerned has been let go.
He's still there, in my past. This isn't "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." I don't want to forget him; I learned a lot from that whole situation, mostly about things I don't ever want to repeat. Things I needed to learn, things I needed to watch out for, and people I needed to know I could trust.
It's such an incredible cliche. He made me stronger. But in an anti-cliche, he didn't mean to. That came after the fact, after the pain and the fear and the guilt. When I realized that nothing I said or did was going to change the way things turned out, but that the end result was exactly what it needed to be.
He didn't see it that way. Maybe he still can't.
I doubt he reads this, but -- I still wish you well. We both moved on a long time ago, at least in appearance. I hope it was true for you in every other way, or at least that it became true in every other way.
It's been true for me for quite some time. I'll admit I had help. I'd like to say I didn't need help, but that wasn't true. Maybe now, but not then.
It's strange the things that growing up teaches you, isn't it?
I do.
Or I did. It's possible he's indifferent now, but for awhile there his hatred of me was strong enough that I could feel the heat if I got within fifty feet of him.
It's interesting how that works. How you can go from madly in love with someone to picturing his or her head exploding and enjoying it. Or madly in love with someone to almost fearing him or her.
I checked out his former blog today ... It will be disappearing from the Internet soon, if I remember Blogger rules correctly. (Two years without activity and it's gone. Kind of a long life, actually.)
I was surprised that I could remember the address, but there it was. I was more surprised when I read a couple of his entries from the time right after us and felt ... nothing.
Nothing, where I used to feel guilt. Mild irritation -- an eye-roll at best -- where I used to tear up. All of those big emotions are just plain gone now, and I'm strangely comfortable with that.
Let's face it -- there are certain levels of emotion that are meant to be released at some point in time or you'll never make it. And everything where he is concerned has been let go.
He's still there, in my past. This isn't "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." I don't want to forget him; I learned a lot from that whole situation, mostly about things I don't ever want to repeat. Things I needed to learn, things I needed to watch out for, and people I needed to know I could trust.
It's such an incredible cliche. He made me stronger. But in an anti-cliche, he didn't mean to. That came after the fact, after the pain and the fear and the guilt. When I realized that nothing I said or did was going to change the way things turned out, but that the end result was exactly what it needed to be.
He didn't see it that way. Maybe he still can't.
I doubt he reads this, but -- I still wish you well. We both moved on a long time ago, at least in appearance. I hope it was true for you in every other way, or at least that it became true in every other way.
It's been true for me for quite some time. I'll admit I had help. I'd like to say I didn't need help, but that wasn't true. Maybe now, but not then.
It's strange the things that growing up teaches you, isn't it?
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