othelladub's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tired of fighting tired
Its no good, these forced arguments and explosions. I don't want to work so hard, I don't want to argue. I'm tired of it. Whatever Shane said or did outside on the balcony, a five minute conversation with him shouldn't have had any impact on our friendship. It may be too late for us, and I have nothing to apologize for. I love her, and I want her to be happy with whatever she chooses to do with her life. I don't want to be friends with someone who thinks I was only interested in sex. I was mainly attracted to her because of her internal warmth, the way she talked to me, the way she made me feel. I like the slant of her nose, the crook of her smile, the fact that she grew up here and isn't ashamed of it. I don't want to be her boyfriend, and I haven't since last December. I don't want to have sex with her. I think there are many beautiful things about her, and she can be very loving and possessing of a genuine warmth. But I don't think she understands friendship, and that - to me - is far more important than sex or possessions or where you live. She's not going to hurt me again. To think that she can break me is laughable. She makes a big point of saying how I'll never have her. I didn't think it was like that. She doesn't acknowledge that she never had me. I was never hers. That is so hurtful, to say that our friendship was all about sex. Aren't there skeezy sluts in OC? Why would I need to send her postcards, the San Diego comic-convention package, the Love and Rockets t-shirt? Why did I talk to her on the phone when she called me at work? Did I think, "Hmm - If I talk to her for a half-hour here, she'll hop on a supersonic jet, fly down to OC and DO ME!!" Yeah. Everything I did was sex-based. Yes, I did think about sex a little when she sent me her soiled panties via the US Postal Service. I was not thinking about it AT ALL this past Friday when her thin skin was somehow bruised by something that Shane said. If one were to add up all the hurtful things she's said, convert them into liquid form, and pour them into a beaker, and then take everything I have said over the course of our friendship, throw in Shane's comments, or those of any person who's been in a 50-yard vicinity when we've been hanging out, and compare - an objective analysis would show that she's spewed more vitriol than the combined might of me, shane, mike coffey, and whatever army we rode in on. Enough already. I don't hate her, but she's been the one starting all the drama; starting all the lame arguments and trauma. We were cool - we go to Shane's house - we're not cool? This doesn't make any sense. Which leads me to believe that if it weren't Shane, it would be something else. She has to justify, in her mind, a reason for being angry with me and severing a friendship. No loose ends or something. Some of her criticisms are valid. I'm no Don Juan, and I don't plan on being one. But I didn't think of her as a guy, or a girl. I thought of her as my friend. 3:56 p.m. - 2002-11-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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