10 People

I'm having a rough time in my head tonight.  Lots of confusion.  Lots of school-related reading.  Lots of heartbreak.  Lots of icky.  Most of it at a handful of specific people.  So, cowardly as it might seem to be, I'm doing a writing exercise taken from the days of myspace where I anonymously write messages to 10 people without posting their names or any specific details.  For my sake and/or for theirs.  If they read and guess who they are, that's ok.  I probably should say some of this to their faces anyway.  Hopefully it will help.

1. I think you're a great person.  I really do.  I wish you could see that about yourself.  I wish you would stop holding yourself to their standards, stop taking on their crap, and stop making your life harder than it needs to be.  I realize I sound like a hypocrite, but I'm saying it anyway because I love you.
I told you that I'm your friend because I know how much I messed up and therefore don't have hopes that you'll ever trust me enough.  You directed me to a picture of your favorite quote: "Forgiveness means not letting the past dictate the future."  I know from experience that to assume you meant anything more than to show me a personal life philosophy would be silly of me, even dangerous, but that doesn't stop me from hoping that what you meant is more nights like Monday.  

I love you.  I thought I loved you before, because I kept superimposing on you the emotions I had for someone you reminded me of, but once I stripped away all of that and took a look at raw YOU-ness, I realized I love who you are.  Your quirks and oddities.  The way you stop speaking to me when you're upset.  How much you want to explore me without giving very much of yourself in return (except that then sometimes you do, totally at random).  How insecure you are when think no one is looking.  The plant on your windowsill that seems so out of place.  That you never kick me out of your bed, and let me stay at your place after you've gone.  The thousand different ways you make me feel.
I love you.  I wish we wanted the same thing: to be together.  Not in any kind of "this is my boyfriend and we're monogamous" way, but in the way that I stay over most nights and sometime I do homework while you play Rockband or we read lines to each other or whatever and if I go to bed early you sneak in and try to not wake me up.  And some nights you wake me up at 2:30 because you can't stand to keep your hands to yourself anymore or I wake you up at who-knows-what-time because I'm not crying as quietly as I thought.  And if you have someone else you want to see that night or if I kiss someone else that's ok, because we are so comfortable in our own us-ness that things like that don't matter.  I'll always keep my own place, but I want a drawer at yours too.  And lets not brag it around to everyone because they don't all need to know.  Will you teach me to play guitar?

2.  I don't know what to say to you.  I love what we had, but I feel like I'm supposed to feel like it's time to change that.  We have to become adults sometimes, and while you might be ok with what's happening in your head, the fact that there are so many lies and sneaking about all the time means you also know that it's not really ok at all.  But I'm not the one who has anything to be honest about, so I don't really feel all that guilty.  And anyway, I love you.  I want to be the woman you marry when we're in our 40s and ready to settle down for reals this time.  It takes my breath away when I kiss you.  It always has.  Can you tell?

3.  I would if I could and if you would.  But you never will.  And I don't want to upset the very delicate balance of things.  I feel like Worf must have in the final season of TNG if you're Deanna and there are two Will Rikers (except slightly less hairy).  But if you ever wanted to, I have a holodeck program that has a sandy beach and a full moon and it absolutely romantic.  Just saying.

4.  I miss you.  Every day.  And then you didn't respond.  And now it's worse.  Why can't I come home?

5.  I wish you would stop talking to me.  I'm afraid if I tell you how I feel you'll go into another tailspin, and I DON'T want to be responsible for that, but you can't seriously believe that there's anything for you to try to befriend again after the shit you pulled the last time.  I don't want your drama that you bring upon yourself.  I don't want to deal with the demands of "being allowed" to be your friend.  I don't feel guilty for never wanting to see you again.  And I'd tell you all this if you were more emotionally stable.  In the meantime, I need for you to just stop, ok?  Find someone else to use; I'm not interested.

6.  I'd love to get to know you.  The distance thing puts a damper on it, and I get the feeling you're not an avid texter or else I'd keep things up that way.  You've got a decent shot, most likely, not least because someone I trust vouched for you in both an inebriated AND a sober state.  And besides, you have one of the awesomest hobbies ever (yes, I know that it should say "most awesome" but I'm ignoring the rules of grammar because of how awesome it is).

7.  I can't.  I thought I could, but I can't.  I won't change myself that much, and I won't go without what I need in hopes that you're going to eventually change.  You shouldn't change.  You should be you.  Someone will someday be introduced into your life with similar goals and relational needs.  But I am not that girl.  I am, in fact, a very different girl from that girl.  And it's not a matter of you not being a good guy, though you very well might not understand that when I tell you all of this.  I think you're an excellent guy, or we wouldn't have gotten this far.  I simply need different things than you can give me (not more, not better, just different), and I think you need different things that I can give you.  So before anyone gets more hurt than they're already going to, I think we should just call it quits.  It's better this way, I promise.

8.  Fuck.  You.  And not in a pleasant, orgasmic kind of way.  More in the "I hope you get hit by a bus and then burst into flames" kind of way.

9.  I hope you're doing alright.  I like my life better without you in it, but I still want good things for you.  I hope you end up getting what you wanted (except, of course, for the "being with Jocelyn" part).

10.  I wonder if you knew as a kid how much the things you said would impact me.  it's been 15 years, but I can still hear the things you said and I still look into the mirror sometimes with the same kinds of critical, mocking looks you used to give me in class and on the playground.  I wonder if you would be interested to know that, had I had better self esteem, I might have been accepted by the other kids, played harder, and not let the weight get out of hand.  I might not be this sick now.  I might have spent adolescence loving myself, not hiding in my weight, and it might not have become a friendly ally in my quest to hide my tears.  I might have been able to shed it early on, stayed on top of being healthy, and never felt like a diet would kill my only constant companion.

I wonder if you care as an adult, or if the loathing you developed in 3rd grade and carried through to graduation shields you from feeling guilty.  Did you think then that I deserved it?  Do you still?  Do you even remember why you started mocking me, why you were the ring-leader in destroying the inherent joy and trust of a little girl?  Why you took one of God's precious daughters and broke her spirit, made her feel ugly, left her jaded and destroyed even still?  How much of what you did then played a part in me clinging to a poisonous relationship even after it degenerated into nothing more than mental and sexual abuse?  

Please don't misunderstand, I'm not blaming you for the way my life has gone so far.  I don't think it was only your playground taunts that have impacted my life.  In fact, I rarely think about you in all honesty.  But sometimes, when I least expect it, those ugly words come back and my inner child cringes, and it's all I can do to not look you up and demand an apology or at least an explanation.  But then I remind myself that you are (or anyway, you were) a Mormon boy and 10 is older than 8.  What that means for you, if you thought about it for a few minutes, is that you're going to be accountable for all of it some day.  Every action has a price.

There you have it.  I am anticipating a few texts now of "was I number X?" or "was number X person 1 or person 2?"  I'll answer honestly your very first guess, if you so choose to ask.  Because I'm a good sport like that.