(no subject)
I feel lighter these past days.
Maybe it's because I know for sure that I can finally move on with my life.
For so long so many of you watched as I always said only positive things about her, as I kept all the pain to myself, all those hurtful things she has said and done... I've told no one except myself for so many years.
It's human nature to want to talk about what hurts you, but it's also part of someone's personality to keep things to themselves.
I haven't deleted any entries or altered anything-- if there were edits, they were always added at the bottom. The only edits that were unnoticed were typo edits and sentences that didn't make sense. I'm really annoyed that my ex thinks I alter things in this journal when I hate deleting entries. The only entry I have ever deleted/privated was the one about how she cheated on Shanna by not telling me that they were together. I deleted and privated it because it caused more problems than it did good. None of it was unfake, none of it was lies. It was all truth.
We have broken up, we have gotten back together. We have gone through a lot. I won't deny that I was in love, I won't deny that I was happy with her, but we just don't match.
She says all these kinds words to me now in her own journal (which I still won't link, but I'm sure half of you already know) and makes me seem like I'm the evil one in deleting shit, talking about how I'm so ugly now, calls me up and leaves me voice mails about how she "can't believe I fucked that" and how she feels SO sorry for "whoever will fuck you next"... how in all our years together, she always said I cheated on her, that I would always leave her, that I never loved her... that kind of verbal statements have gone on too far, they hurt too much, and she only thinks she did no wrong. I've never said that. I didn't say I feel bad for whoever fucks her next. I didn't say that I won. I didn't ever say those things. It's not about winning. It's not about who fucks you next. None of that is even important.
I don't deny I've done some wrong, but this past week, last week, things like that, the only wrong I have done is that I've wanted to cut my link off with her entirely. I did not touch her, I did not call her, I did not contact her, I did not return her calls, I did not return any kind of contact to her, and for her to suddenly march into my room for a teacup is nothing I've ever experienced before. I was so scared that I locked my room in my own apartment, I cried because I couldn't believe she pushed me. My chest hurt from crying and her pushing me. I'm not trying to make it seem like I was the only victim; I don't doubt she hurt because I was ignoring her. But it's my choice in life that I don't want to see her. I don't want her to be a part of my life anymore.
I would never forget her. We spent so many years together that everything I ever do reminds me of her. I don't find that to be a negative thing at all. I've always told her that I'd never forget her, even if we stopped talking. I said that I'm glad to have met her, even though the problems persisted. She only told me she wished she never loved me, wished she never met me, that she should have cut off ties with me after we broke up the first time. I never said those things. She has told me them so many times... it's only toward the end I started saying that. I heard so many years about how I don't care.
The fact of the matter is, it's too late to apologize now. I don't want apologies, I don't want to hear about how you'll remember me fondly. I'm glad and happy you'll remember me fondly. But that's it. This part of our life is over, and it's no longer going. I'm glad you'll think fondly. I'm glad of it. I will, too. But no number of apologies will bring that part of my life back, and it will not return it to you.
What I just can't believe is that she came over for a teacup. It's not about the teacup now that I look back on it. Personally, I think she wanted a response from me. She wanted something from me. She talks about ulterior motives that I supposedly carry, but all of her actions almost make me think that she sort of sets up situations for herself like this. It would make for an interesting story.
No one in their right mind would come waltzing over, knowing my door is completely open, knowing that I'm not picking up my phone... no one. It's a breach of privacy; it's immoral. Still, I didn't call campus police or file for harrassment.
It's because I know she was hurt that she did these things; granted, it still is no proper excuse or reason for it to justify it. It's because I don't want any extra things from this. I have faith in her that she's a good enough person to not do anything strange or weird. If anything does happen, and one day I don't update this journal anymore, then I suppose I just have too much faith in human beings. I've always loved her, I've always thought good things about her, I always thought that... we could just sit in the park and chat.
She's just not for me. She always wanted to do something. Sitting in the park with me isn't enough. She wants to go to the mall. We go to the mall. The mall isn't enough. We have to go watch a movie. Then we should do something else. Let's go eat somewhere.
Sometimes, I just want to sit in the car with you, is that so wrong? Why is that so boring? Why is it boring to sit and chat with me in the car...?
It's over, though. I don't understand why she writes that she asked me to drop it and I won't drop it...? I've asked her so many times that I don't want to talk to her. I've even avoided writing about so many things. I've only written about them now; I've only written about what happened in the past week... she writes about how I'm always like this, she writes about how I'm always wanting to hurt her.
What kind of person wants to see another person cry? How could she write about how I wanted her to cry?
She didn't know me well enough. We knew each other so long, but in the end, we were just strangers. I thought I knew her, but... I really didn't. She always had a bad image of me, and she only writes those positive things now because I'm gone. It's always like this.
She hurt me so bad to the point that one time we were in my dormitory, I just shook with fear. I shook with fear as she hugged me. She apologized, but no matter what, I shook with fear that she would say something to hurt me...
And all I could think about was how happy we were before. I told myself, if I don't last through this hard time, then I don't love her enough. That's why I never gave up. The years counted... 7 years...
Of those years, so many toward the end of those years... I've spent crying because I was in pain.
I'm a paranoid person now because of this relationship. I'm a scared person because of this relationship. I apologize to everything because I wish to do no wrong, I flinch and cower when someone calls me names. It's because it's really what I heard a lot. I'm now a sad little shell of the confident me that she helped me become in high school. She did help me. But she also now brought me down...
She did treat me well half the time, but she also treated me unwell.
Someone told me, and I knew it well-- some of the best relationships are also the most abusive in the sense that... there's no balance. The hurt hurts so much more, the make up for it is so much better... but it goes back to being hurt if we don't get along. The deeper we care for each other, the smaller the wrong that would make us hurt so much...
Each time we fought, I always said I wanted to drop it, that things weren't important. We would fight over the stupidest things. She would continue on it, and then I would continue, and then she'd finally tell me to drop it. By then, I already said a lot, and she'd respond to it, and then I would tell her to drop it, until the end result was just me crying. Crying until you couldn't even comprehend what I was saying.
I remember one time sitting in the car with her, I was half an hour late. She screamed at me, she said we wouldn't have time to do what we planned... she said I wasted her gas, her time...
But we had a full day to do anything. It was only the beginning of the day. Why was our day ruined...?
By the end of this relationship, I will admit, I went crazy. It's because so much of her responses confused me.
She used to tell me that it doesn't matter what I wear, that as long as we were together, it was fine. But one time I came in a pair of GAP chinos and she just kept talking about how she took so long in the morning to get ready, and I "fucked up our day" because I wore a pair of GAP chinos that used to be something fashionable when we were kids. I said that I did take the time to get ready, I thought I looked nice... but no, she wanted me to wear my skinny fit jeans. The start of that day was already wrong, how much more better could I feel...? She basically said I dressed ugly. And of course, her looks are so important... she always wants to look good.
In my entire time with her, I heard about how stupid I was. How I said things wrong. How she picked at my language. How I did this and that-- it was all the outside things that bugged her. How I didn't open the lock for her door from the inside, how my face is full of pimples, how when my hair looked oily she would ask if I took a shower today or not. How I couldn't eat what I wanted to eat, how I couldn't drink soda, how I couldn't go on trips with my family without her yelling at me on the phone.
How I didn't read her entries, how if I were to talk any positive things about any friends, she would shoot it down with how stupid they were, how Ron had mental problems because he wore cat ears and a tail all the time, how I must have been embarassed to be around him, and how she fought for the right to wear men's clothing all at the same time...
How can she write so many entries about how I'm such a bitch and when it's all over when I say I don't ever want to see her again she write something semi-positive about me? It makes her look like such the good guy. It's not like there is a good guy or a bad guy. It's not about winning or losing. It's about what makes sense, even to the logic of feelings. I can't understand it. I just can't understand how someone could write such a story about someone they love in such a disgusting manner only to do a 360 to say that they really loved them.
I have her voice mails. I know what she said. I have our chat logs. I can upload everything, if this were some study of a science, disect it, explain things. We have so much information that someone could do a study on our relationship. It takes two to keep a relationship together. It takes two to make mistakes, to hurt each other, to love each other, to learn from mistakes, to grow together.
We just didn't grow together.
She always talked about how I'd run off with someone online. About how I would talk about people being better than her.
It's like I couldn't say anything positive about my friends. I started to not talk about my friends-- she hated most of them. She would say they were stupid, that they proved my intelligence. But they're my friends... why is she talking like that?
She'd say I have no life because I had online friends. She said they were not true friends. That you can't possibly be true friends with someone online. Then later, she would tell me about how on MSN, one of her friends was hilarious...
I've really changed nothing in my LiveJournal. I've altered no entries, I've only added edits toward the bottom. I don't know why she starts up those kinds of lies. To those who share us, what did I change? I changed nothing. I don't understand why she must say those things on her journal.
I see her friends comment about how they're glad to know her, that I'm a bitch of an ex, and things like that. I don't blame them. If I were her friend and not her ex, and I read all that, I would, too, believe her. I would too, take her side.
Anyone who read that previous chat log would not see it as a way of me overreacting. It is only toward the end that I do. It is mostly full of me apologizing and her calling me a joke. The last chat was what I consider a "good" chat-- none of our other chats were that nice.
I trusted Shanna and I thought I could find some support in her, but it end result is that Shanna is only her friend. She's not mine. I asked Shanna to read certain chat logs so I could ask for advice, and I can see that she's uncomfortable in that position. Shanna never wanted to read those chat logs, and I don't blame her. She already saw how we fought in person.
I hated myself for putting anyone in that position. But at the same time, there was my ex, doing the same thing, and my human nature to want to stick up for myself ended up placing Shanna in the same position too. For so long I tried not to do that to her, and my ex would always go "Shanna was there, Shanna can tell you." It was uncomfortable and not very considerate... and each time I would be told about how I was wrong, how it was my fault, how my memory is bad an that only we can trust her's. If that's the case, I told myself, that I would no longer need to say anything more except "sorry." (That reminds me. I used to say things like admitting my wrong, but somehow it's not considered an apology to admit how you were wrong, you have to admit you were wrong and say the phrase 'I'm sorry' or else it was not considered an 'apology'; it would be considered an 'explanation.' Haruka always picked at text and words... and I find myself doing it so much to explain myself after knowing her for so long. If I wasn't specific enough, it would be picked at accordingly. I didn't do this before.)
I'll be doing it for the last time. After these two weeks, even Shanna will be free from this drama. I'll just give back the items to Shanna and things will be fine, and all of us can move on with our lives. I previously wanted to meet with Haruka, herself, but after that teacup fiasco, I really don't want to see her at all.
I may have insulted her when I was angry-- the two of us in the same room esclated what I believe no humans should ever feel, but I never insulted her when I was explaining situations. I always had reason to list what happened and my reaction to it. I remember telling her some days ago, "we have hurt each other beyond what any human being should feel like, and I wish to stop it." It ended with her telling me how she has won and I apologized for overreacting again. I look back on it and I don't think I overreacted. There might have been some times that I have overreacted, but for the most part, I tried so hard to let the hurt stay in and not for the feeling to come out. I no longer smiled.
I'm avoiding her because I don't want to start drama things. She was still searching for me to get her things back, and I promised her so long ago, and even told her a few weeks ago (while we were still talking) that I would never, ever ruin her things, that I would always return them. She keeps talking like I want to keep her stuff. The way she listed her Noir items, this item, that item-- I'm not purposely trying to keep these things from her. I held her items out of goodwill when she left her house (which she partially blamed was my fault, and while I can understand her reasoning, I think it's her step-father's own excuse to kick her out), I didn't touch them. She said I could play the games, and I never played them. I didn't want to touch them for fear that she'd yell at me if any one thing would go missing. She wrote about how she wanted those things back! ... then wrote in the later entry that she doesn't mind if her items aren't given back. I'm confused.
Is this entry hateful? Is this entry excessive? Is it untruthful?
Is it disrespectful?
It's my point of view, it's how I feel. I was hurt, I was uncomfortable in this relationship. I woke up each morning wishing I wasn't me, and I didn't tell so many people. I woke each morning wishing I lived in another country, as it felt like I had another life. I didn't want to be me, I didn't want to live this life... if it meant dealing with this relationship that I didn't wish to let go of... because I couldn't forget how good it was before...
That's where something is wrong.
A person shouldn't stay in such a relationship. A person who does not feel loved or love the other, a person who does not love rightly now and only remembers then... they should not stay together.
I haven't locked any entries in the past weeks. I haven't written at all in the past weeks. Hell, I also ignored LiveJournal during the time I didn't sign on chat programs. I still didn't sign on.
She talks about seven years ago.
Seven years ago, I was happy. Seven years ago, I met this girl who loved me... and it was during a time I didn't know what love was. I didn't think about love. I wasn't even in love with the so-called boyfriend that only lasted less than 5 days. That's no relationship. For her to call him my at-the-time-boyfriend is beyond me.
But there was something amiss back then, too.
When we first touched each other the first time, she yelled at me. She hated her self-image. She said she was fat and I said she wasn't. I remember that I didn't want to do anything wrong, so... from then on my first impluse was to not touch her.
I remember playing Street Fighter Zero 3 with her. I lost completely. I went home, bought the game, and played. I played and played. I was so inspired to be as good as her. I fought her again, and she didn't win anymore. She threw her controller down and later told me she threw away her disk. I was upset. I no longer had someone to play that game with... after I finally loved it so much and was so inspired... we only later found out she stuck her game in a random box while she was moving out of her home. I was happy to see the disk again, but I was sad because it had to end up that way.
She also stopped drawing because of me. I critized a work of hers, and she no longer drew. I drew for her everyday, and I improved. Once, she told me that she would never catch up to me.
She stopped a lot of things. Our interests that were similar slowly diminished. ... it all seemed like a game of who was better than the other. I hated it. I hated it so much...
I promised her that I'd never leave her.
And she promised me, too, but she never ever stopped telling me about how I'd leave her, how I don't really love her, how I'm going to run off with someone else, how I'm cheating on her. How I think other people are better than her...
I can't keep such a promise to that kind of comment. I can't live with someone, even if I love them fully, if that is the language I usually hear. Sometimes among those, I would hear "I love you," "you're beautiful," "I'm glad to have met you," "we're perfect together,"... but again and again, I'd hear more, "you're a fucking dumbass," "how do you even breathe?" "how do you even function?" "you're contradicting yourself," "you never make sense," "of course, your judgement is bad, you can't ever tell how people are," "you're stupid," "you're always late," "you never remember," "your memory is bad," "you've got pimples on your face, it's ugly, get rid of them," "you don't talk enough," "you didn't spend enough time on your looks," "you need to do your hair." ... there's so much other things, but I just can't remember. I'm someone who remembers the good things more than the bad. The thing is, when you are hurt, what is there to remember except the feeling? There needs no reason and you can still feel this pain.
Why would I ever want her to cry? I cry so much myself. It's not bad to cry, but when you're crying with such agony, it hurts. It hurts your throat, it hurts your head... your sinuses gets clogged.
I cried so much when I was with her. I cried out of hurt, out of pain. My birthday with her was just awful, and she said that my reaction on the day of her birthday was just to get back at her. I don't ever get back at her. I wanted that day to be a good day, I was silent as I usually was, and somehow that was wrong. Somehow it was wrong that I was just like how I usually was. There's no reason to cause conflict. I hate conflict. I hate confronting people over stupid junk. If it's important, it's worth it to confront. But if it's over something so trivial, what's the point?
I don't even remember what we fought about on my birthday. I don't even remember anything but crying.
I remember we were in the room and she cut herself. She took her own knife out and cut herself. The scar still exists on her arm; I froze when I was there. I froze. I had so much faith in her that she would not do something so stupid, and later she told me that I did nothing to stop her from doing it, therefore I didn't care about her. (I hated that knife. From day one that she purchased it, I expressed my hate for it. I fucking hate that knife. She never put it away, she took it out randomly. And she finally cut herself with it. I still hate that fucking knife.)
What about when she told me she would kill herself, and told me, "you really don't think I would do it, you really don't think I would do it, do you! You'll see! You just want me dead!" and never actually doing it. Always resulting in me crying. I once said that I would call the police if she were to do anything strange, because I was scared and far away from her. I had no idea what else I could do; I was not there in person with her.
The next year resulted her in bringing it up again and again-- that I'm betraying her to even threaten to call the cops on her! That because I "want" her to be put into a mental house because she tried to kill herself! That's what the cops would do! That's me betraying her trust! She can't trust me anymore because I "threatened" to call the cops because she said she would kill herself! I'm fucking scared out of my wits! This person I love says she's going to kill herself and she's miles away! What do I fucking do!? What am I supposed to do? Pray to God? Pray to someone? Tell someone? ... keep it to myself...?
Every day I talked to her. Most of those conversations were about our days, things we saw... things we read... and the it would always lead to her talking about how she hates herself.
I told myself, just because one is depressed does not mean that they do not deserve love.
But her depression affected how she treated me. Can she not see that I'm hurting when she says that I really don't think she's beautiful? Can she not see that I'm hurting when I tell her that I love her, only to have her tell me "you don't"? Can she not see that I'm hurting when I say I care, only to have her tell me that I don't...? Days and days and days of this... I finally broke down. At any little thing when she was depressed, I would crack.
Finally, I tried to find a way to cope. I started to tell myself to be neutral-- if I were to not care enough yet care enough, I would find that my pain would be easier to handle. I kept telling myself that she only says those words and never means them, I kept telling myself to keep up the pace and tell counter all of her negative thoughts with positivity.
I'm a human being and I can only go for so long.
It pained me.
It ate at me. It tortured me.
My friends could see how slowly I was getting depressed when I'm around them, how I kept more silent than usual, how I cooped myself up in my room. How I never came out anymore.
I smiled less.
I slept in the early hours of the morning from insomnia.
Not to mention... if I were to sleep early, Haruka would make fun of me. Tell me how weak I am. That if she could run on 6 hours of sleep, so could I. Aren't we humans different? Do we not run on different amounts of sleep? What one person can sleep for an hour every two-three hours, can this other person do the same? I really don't think so.
When I was younger, I did say a lot of things that I would always take back. But I learned over time. Sometimes when you're angry, you shouldn't say those things.
As an adult, I said those fewer and fewer. Then she moved out of her house into her father's.
She became more particular, and with it, she treated me the same way her father did. I became paranoid along with her, along with her father...
It was a bad chain of effects.
Those memories she writes of. It's all from her point of view. We both enjoyed those days. Look at so much of what we did.
It was everyday. We went to the mall so many times everyday to the point where I memorized which store had closed down and which store had newly opened.
But I was tired.
I wanted to sit in the car and just chat, and she always wanted to go somewhere. I was still, and she always wanted to move. Don't get me wrong. I like going to the mall, I like movies, I like San Francisco. But to do it everyday, and then everyday almost... I was a very tired girl. I also started having a big hole in my pocket. If I were to complain about money matters, she would call me cheap. ... but I grew up poor. Of course money is important to me. I need to save money. I didn't have a job like her. And when I did, we still spent so much... she'd always buy clothes, so much clothes... I mean, I loved her clothes, but... it's sooo... much clothes.
We didn't match like this.
She writes how I've made it a public spectacle. I haven't even written a discriptor on my LJ-cuts. She wrote an entry about this situation before I did. There was a previous entry that was LJ-cutted and I was frazzled, I was upset, I was angry. It was because... it was my soul, my mental state, screaming, "Help me. I want to leave this situation, I want to be free! Please, let me move on with my young life!"
Her previous entry about seeing me, the teacup. It's written like a story. It's got a beginning, and end, a climax... it's got descriptions that are fit to be published somewhere. It's got a personal touch to it. That's the way she is each time something happens. And at the end of it all, she would exclaim, "I did it. I won." How could she write so much hateful insults and focus so much importance on the visual aspect of what one person wears and looks and not focus on the actual situation better? You're too busy thinking about how my face has pimples, how my hair is tied up, a supposed old chinese people smell when I have no chinese medicines in my room. How I'm smelly and haven't taken a shower. So then when you think about the facts of the situation:
1) Michiru is in her room.
2) Michiru does not pick up calls.
3) Haruka enters room without permission.
4) Haruka does not live in Santa Cruz.
5) Haruka wants a teacup.
6) Michiru and Haruka agreed to meet in two weeks, and it was already previously arranged before this teacup fiasco.
7) Michiru does listen to her voicemails, and reads e-mails, and text messages.
8) Haruka previously agreed to not speak to Michiru again until two weeks later.
Of course somehow that means Michiru is wrong, because you've painted such an image of monstrosity to her. So if she says that she will give you her own cup, and you refuse, and then later ask you to leave, you demand for hers, isn't that a strange... 360? A strange turn. She offered her own cup which you refused. She asked you to leave and to get your cup in two weeks if that is the case that you do not wish to accept her cup. It's her apartment. At her school. You don't live in Santa Cruz. You entered her room and she did not pick up her calls.
What if she wasn't home?
What if Michiru wasn't there in her room?
You would have essentially entered without permission, still. This time, without the occupant.
How is that day wrong? How did I wrong that day? She laughs about how if I were to call the campus police, they would laugh at me for I have only reported a person who was simply defending herself. But who was really defending themselves?
I didn't push her. Shanna saw us from a mirror, behind the door (not even directly behind it), with my door 50% propped open (my laundry basket is behind it so it can't open all the way), and with a person in front of her, blocking the doorway, essentially blocking view of me.
Of course she didn't see me get pushed. Of course. But I'm sure she saw Haruka kick my shoes on the way out. I'm sure she saw Haruka slam my door when she left. I would not have had enough time to close the door even if I wanted to. I was already next to my water boiler/heater after being pushed.
The facts, regardless of what action had occured after just only prove more that Haruka was being strange in coming to my apartment. Just because her cup was in my dormitory it gave her the right to intrude? She could have left me a voicemail to send her cup in two weeks. Why was the cup so urgent? This wasn't about a cup.
Read her entry again. Think about if someone was entering YOUR house and then writing about how you were the massive evil that had their things. Think about how if you weren't to pick up your phone, would it be right for someone to enter regardless? Campus police would not have taken her side. She is a foreign person in this campus, she is not a UCSC student, she is not a Porter residence.
Yet, I still didn't report for harrassment. She says that she was defending herself by pushing me... but I didn't push her at all. I didn't even want to touch her. Her later telling me on my voicemails that she KNEW something would happen and how she purposely brought Shanna with her to see. It's stupid. It just proves even more how she thinks our relationship was some game of winning and losing. Of proving. Of debate.
I won't forget her. I won't think badly of her. I never did.
She says I screened calls.
The fact of the matter is, I avoided everyone. I didn't log myself into chat programs. I didn't pick up my cell phone, no matter who it was. I didn't pick up my room phone anymore. My friends had a hard time to contact me.
This is still the end. This is a new time in my life, and this time, I'm sorry, but she is not a part of it. We had many good years together, and that is what I will remember. I will more than likely forget the events above had I not written about it.
Never had I stopped wishing for her happiness. But never had she stopped telling me that I didn't care. That's the difference.
I said I'm happy you got an A+ on your poem. If only you'd believe it.
I thank you for the past we had together, but I cannot bring myself to thank you for the recent years.
Maybe it's because I know for sure that I can finally move on with my life.
For so long so many of you watched as I always said only positive things about her, as I kept all the pain to myself, all those hurtful things she has said and done... I've told no one except myself for so many years.
It's human nature to want to talk about what hurts you, but it's also part of someone's personality to keep things to themselves.
I haven't deleted any entries or altered anything-- if there were edits, they were always added at the bottom. The only edits that were unnoticed were typo edits and sentences that didn't make sense. I'm really annoyed that my ex thinks I alter things in this journal when I hate deleting entries. The only entry I have ever deleted/privated was the one about how she cheated on Shanna by not telling me that they were together. I deleted and privated it because it caused more problems than it did good. None of it was unfake, none of it was lies. It was all truth.
We have broken up, we have gotten back together. We have gone through a lot. I won't deny that I was in love, I won't deny that I was happy with her, but we just don't match.
She says all these kinds words to me now in her own journal (which I still won't link, but I'm sure half of you already know) and makes me seem like I'm the evil one in deleting shit, talking about how I'm so ugly now, calls me up and leaves me voice mails about how she "can't believe I fucked that" and how she feels SO sorry for "whoever will fuck you next"... how in all our years together, she always said I cheated on her, that I would always leave her, that I never loved her... that kind of verbal statements have gone on too far, they hurt too much, and she only thinks she did no wrong. I've never said that. I didn't say I feel bad for whoever fucks her next. I didn't say that I won. I didn't ever say those things. It's not about winning. It's not about who fucks you next. None of that is even important.
I don't deny I've done some wrong, but this past week, last week, things like that, the only wrong I have done is that I've wanted to cut my link off with her entirely. I did not touch her, I did not call her, I did not contact her, I did not return her calls, I did not return any kind of contact to her, and for her to suddenly march into my room for a teacup is nothing I've ever experienced before. I was so scared that I locked my room in my own apartment, I cried because I couldn't believe she pushed me. My chest hurt from crying and her pushing me. I'm not trying to make it seem like I was the only victim; I don't doubt she hurt because I was ignoring her. But it's my choice in life that I don't want to see her. I don't want her to be a part of my life anymore.
I would never forget her. We spent so many years together that everything I ever do reminds me of her. I don't find that to be a negative thing at all. I've always told her that I'd never forget her, even if we stopped talking. I said that I'm glad to have met her, even though the problems persisted. She only told me she wished she never loved me, wished she never met me, that she should have cut off ties with me after we broke up the first time. I never said those things. She has told me them so many times... it's only toward the end I started saying that. I heard so many years about how I don't care.
The fact of the matter is, it's too late to apologize now. I don't want apologies, I don't want to hear about how you'll remember me fondly. I'm glad and happy you'll remember me fondly. But that's it. This part of our life is over, and it's no longer going. I'm glad you'll think fondly. I'm glad of it. I will, too. But no number of apologies will bring that part of my life back, and it will not return it to you.
What I just can't believe is that she came over for a teacup. It's not about the teacup now that I look back on it. Personally, I think she wanted a response from me. She wanted something from me. She talks about ulterior motives that I supposedly carry, but all of her actions almost make me think that she sort of sets up situations for herself like this. It would make for an interesting story.
No one in their right mind would come waltzing over, knowing my door is completely open, knowing that I'm not picking up my phone... no one. It's a breach of privacy; it's immoral. Still, I didn't call campus police or file for harrassment.
It's because I know she was hurt that she did these things; granted, it still is no proper excuse or reason for it to justify it. It's because I don't want any extra things from this. I have faith in her that she's a good enough person to not do anything strange or weird. If anything does happen, and one day I don't update this journal anymore, then I suppose I just have too much faith in human beings. I've always loved her, I've always thought good things about her, I always thought that... we could just sit in the park and chat.
She's just not for me. She always wanted to do something. Sitting in the park with me isn't enough. She wants to go to the mall. We go to the mall. The mall isn't enough. We have to go watch a movie. Then we should do something else. Let's go eat somewhere.
Sometimes, I just want to sit in the car with you, is that so wrong? Why is that so boring? Why is it boring to sit and chat with me in the car...?
It's over, though. I don't understand why she writes that she asked me to drop it and I won't drop it...? I've asked her so many times that I don't want to talk to her. I've even avoided writing about so many things. I've only written about them now; I've only written about what happened in the past week... she writes about how I'm always like this, she writes about how I'm always wanting to hurt her.
What kind of person wants to see another person cry? How could she write about how I wanted her to cry?
She didn't know me well enough. We knew each other so long, but in the end, we were just strangers. I thought I knew her, but... I really didn't. She always had a bad image of me, and she only writes those positive things now because I'm gone. It's always like this.
She hurt me so bad to the point that one time we were in my dormitory, I just shook with fear. I shook with fear as she hugged me. She apologized, but no matter what, I shook with fear that she would say something to hurt me...
And all I could think about was how happy we were before. I told myself, if I don't last through this hard time, then I don't love her enough. That's why I never gave up. The years counted... 7 years...
Of those years, so many toward the end of those years... I've spent crying because I was in pain.
I'm a paranoid person now because of this relationship. I'm a scared person because of this relationship. I apologize to everything because I wish to do no wrong, I flinch and cower when someone calls me names. It's because it's really what I heard a lot. I'm now a sad little shell of the confident me that she helped me become in high school. She did help me. But she also now brought me down...
She did treat me well half the time, but she also treated me unwell.
Someone told me, and I knew it well-- some of the best relationships are also the most abusive in the sense that... there's no balance. The hurt hurts so much more, the make up for it is so much better... but it goes back to being hurt if we don't get along. The deeper we care for each other, the smaller the wrong that would make us hurt so much...
Each time we fought, I always said I wanted to drop it, that things weren't important. We would fight over the stupidest things. She would continue on it, and then I would continue, and then she'd finally tell me to drop it. By then, I already said a lot, and she'd respond to it, and then I would tell her to drop it, until the end result was just me crying. Crying until you couldn't even comprehend what I was saying.
I remember one time sitting in the car with her, I was half an hour late. She screamed at me, she said we wouldn't have time to do what we planned... she said I wasted her gas, her time...
But we had a full day to do anything. It was only the beginning of the day. Why was our day ruined...?
By the end of this relationship, I will admit, I went crazy. It's because so much of her responses confused me.
She used to tell me that it doesn't matter what I wear, that as long as we were together, it was fine. But one time I came in a pair of GAP chinos and she just kept talking about how she took so long in the morning to get ready, and I "fucked up our day" because I wore a pair of GAP chinos that used to be something fashionable when we were kids. I said that I did take the time to get ready, I thought I looked nice... but no, she wanted me to wear my skinny fit jeans. The start of that day was already wrong, how much more better could I feel...? She basically said I dressed ugly. And of course, her looks are so important... she always wants to look good.
In my entire time with her, I heard about how stupid I was. How I said things wrong. How she picked at my language. How I did this and that-- it was all the outside things that bugged her. How I didn't open the lock for her door from the inside, how my face is full of pimples, how when my hair looked oily she would ask if I took a shower today or not. How I couldn't eat what I wanted to eat, how I couldn't drink soda, how I couldn't go on trips with my family without her yelling at me on the phone.
How I didn't read her entries, how if I were to talk any positive things about any friends, she would shoot it down with how stupid they were, how Ron had mental problems because he wore cat ears and a tail all the time, how I must have been embarassed to be around him, and how she fought for the right to wear men's clothing all at the same time...
How can she write so many entries about how I'm such a bitch and when it's all over when I say I don't ever want to see her again she write something semi-positive about me? It makes her look like such the good guy. It's not like there is a good guy or a bad guy. It's not about winning or losing. It's about what makes sense, even to the logic of feelings. I can't understand it. I just can't understand how someone could write such a story about someone they love in such a disgusting manner only to do a 360 to say that they really loved them.
I have her voice mails. I know what she said. I have our chat logs. I can upload everything, if this were some study of a science, disect it, explain things. We have so much information that someone could do a study on our relationship. It takes two to keep a relationship together. It takes two to make mistakes, to hurt each other, to love each other, to learn from mistakes, to grow together.
We just didn't grow together.
She always talked about how I'd run off with someone online. About how I would talk about people being better than her.
It's like I couldn't say anything positive about my friends. I started to not talk about my friends-- she hated most of them. She would say they were stupid, that they proved my intelligence. But they're my friends... why is she talking like that?
She'd say I have no life because I had online friends. She said they were not true friends. That you can't possibly be true friends with someone online. Then later, she would tell me about how on MSN, one of her friends was hilarious...
I've really changed nothing in my LiveJournal. I've altered no entries, I've only added edits toward the bottom. I don't know why she starts up those kinds of lies. To those who share us, what did I change? I changed nothing. I don't understand why she must say those things on her journal.
I see her friends comment about how they're glad to know her, that I'm a bitch of an ex, and things like that. I don't blame them. If I were her friend and not her ex, and I read all that, I would, too, believe her. I would too, take her side.
Anyone who read that previous chat log would not see it as a way of me overreacting. It is only toward the end that I do. It is mostly full of me apologizing and her calling me a joke. The last chat was what I consider a "good" chat-- none of our other chats were that nice.
I trusted Shanna and I thought I could find some support in her, but it end result is that Shanna is only her friend. She's not mine. I asked Shanna to read certain chat logs so I could ask for advice, and I can see that she's uncomfortable in that position. Shanna never wanted to read those chat logs, and I don't blame her. She already saw how we fought in person.
I hated myself for putting anyone in that position. But at the same time, there was my ex, doing the same thing, and my human nature to want to stick up for myself ended up placing Shanna in the same position too. For so long I tried not to do that to her, and my ex would always go "Shanna was there, Shanna can tell you." It was uncomfortable and not very considerate... and each time I would be told about how I was wrong, how it was my fault, how my memory is bad an that only we can trust her's. If that's the case, I told myself, that I would no longer need to say anything more except "sorry." (That reminds me. I used to say things like admitting my wrong, but somehow it's not considered an apology to admit how you were wrong, you have to admit you were wrong and say the phrase 'I'm sorry' or else it was not considered an 'apology'; it would be considered an 'explanation.' Haruka always picked at text and words... and I find myself doing it so much to explain myself after knowing her for so long. If I wasn't specific enough, it would be picked at accordingly. I didn't do this before.)
I'll be doing it for the last time. After these two weeks, even Shanna will be free from this drama. I'll just give back the items to Shanna and things will be fine, and all of us can move on with our lives. I previously wanted to meet with Haruka, herself, but after that teacup fiasco, I really don't want to see her at all.
I may have insulted her when I was angry-- the two of us in the same room esclated what I believe no humans should ever feel, but I never insulted her when I was explaining situations. I always had reason to list what happened and my reaction to it. I remember telling her some days ago, "we have hurt each other beyond what any human being should feel like, and I wish to stop it." It ended with her telling me how she has won and I apologized for overreacting again. I look back on it and I don't think I overreacted. There might have been some times that I have overreacted, but for the most part, I tried so hard to let the hurt stay in and not for the feeling to come out. I no longer smiled.
I'm avoiding her because I don't want to start drama things. She was still searching for me to get her things back, and I promised her so long ago, and even told her a few weeks ago (while we were still talking) that I would never, ever ruin her things, that I would always return them. She keeps talking like I want to keep her stuff. The way she listed her Noir items, this item, that item-- I'm not purposely trying to keep these things from her. I held her items out of goodwill when she left her house (which she partially blamed was my fault, and while I can understand her reasoning, I think it's her step-father's own excuse to kick her out), I didn't touch them. She said I could play the games, and I never played them. I didn't want to touch them for fear that she'd yell at me if any one thing would go missing. She wrote about how she wanted those things back! ... then wrote in the later entry that she doesn't mind if her items aren't given back. I'm confused.
Is this entry hateful? Is this entry excessive? Is it untruthful?
Is it disrespectful?
It's my point of view, it's how I feel. I was hurt, I was uncomfortable in this relationship. I woke up each morning wishing I wasn't me, and I didn't tell so many people. I woke each morning wishing I lived in another country, as it felt like I had another life. I didn't want to be me, I didn't want to live this life... if it meant dealing with this relationship that I didn't wish to let go of... because I couldn't forget how good it was before...
That's where something is wrong.
A person shouldn't stay in such a relationship. A person who does not feel loved or love the other, a person who does not love rightly now and only remembers then... they should not stay together.
I haven't locked any entries in the past weeks. I haven't written at all in the past weeks. Hell, I also ignored LiveJournal during the time I didn't sign on chat programs. I still didn't sign on.
She talks about seven years ago.
Seven years ago, I was happy. Seven years ago, I met this girl who loved me... and it was during a time I didn't know what love was. I didn't think about love. I wasn't even in love with the so-called boyfriend that only lasted less than 5 days. That's no relationship. For her to call him my at-the-time-boyfriend is beyond me.
But there was something amiss back then, too.
When we first touched each other the first time, she yelled at me. She hated her self-image. She said she was fat and I said she wasn't. I remember that I didn't want to do anything wrong, so... from then on my first impluse was to not touch her.
I remember playing Street Fighter Zero 3 with her. I lost completely. I went home, bought the game, and played. I played and played. I was so inspired to be as good as her. I fought her again, and she didn't win anymore. She threw her controller down and later told me she threw away her disk. I was upset. I no longer had someone to play that game with... after I finally loved it so much and was so inspired... we only later found out she stuck her game in a random box while she was moving out of her home. I was happy to see the disk again, but I was sad because it had to end up that way.
She also stopped drawing because of me. I critized a work of hers, and she no longer drew. I drew for her everyday, and I improved. Once, she told me that she would never catch up to me.
She stopped a lot of things. Our interests that were similar slowly diminished. ... it all seemed like a game of who was better than the other. I hated it. I hated it so much...
I promised her that I'd never leave her.
And she promised me, too, but she never ever stopped telling me about how I'd leave her, how I don't really love her, how I'm going to run off with someone else, how I'm cheating on her. How I think other people are better than her...
I can't keep such a promise to that kind of comment. I can't live with someone, even if I love them fully, if that is the language I usually hear. Sometimes among those, I would hear "I love you," "you're beautiful," "I'm glad to have met you," "we're perfect together,"... but again and again, I'd hear more, "you're a fucking dumbass," "how do you even breathe?" "how do you even function?" "you're contradicting yourself," "you never make sense," "of course, your judgement is bad, you can't ever tell how people are," "you're stupid," "you're always late," "you never remember," "your memory is bad," "you've got pimples on your face, it's ugly, get rid of them," "you don't talk enough," "you didn't spend enough time on your looks," "you need to do your hair." ... there's so much other things, but I just can't remember. I'm someone who remembers the good things more than the bad. The thing is, when you are hurt, what is there to remember except the feeling? There needs no reason and you can still feel this pain.
Why would I ever want her to cry? I cry so much myself. It's not bad to cry, but when you're crying with such agony, it hurts. It hurts your throat, it hurts your head... your sinuses gets clogged.
I cried so much when I was with her. I cried out of hurt, out of pain. My birthday with her was just awful, and she said that my reaction on the day of her birthday was just to get back at her. I don't ever get back at her. I wanted that day to be a good day, I was silent as I usually was, and somehow that was wrong. Somehow it was wrong that I was just like how I usually was. There's no reason to cause conflict. I hate conflict. I hate confronting people over stupid junk. If it's important, it's worth it to confront. But if it's over something so trivial, what's the point?
I don't even remember what we fought about on my birthday. I don't even remember anything but crying.
I remember we were in the room and she cut herself. She took her own knife out and cut herself. The scar still exists on her arm; I froze when I was there. I froze. I had so much faith in her that she would not do something so stupid, and later she told me that I did nothing to stop her from doing it, therefore I didn't care about her. (I hated that knife. From day one that she purchased it, I expressed my hate for it. I fucking hate that knife. She never put it away, she took it out randomly. And she finally cut herself with it. I still hate that fucking knife.)
What about when she told me she would kill herself, and told me, "you really don't think I would do it, you really don't think I would do it, do you! You'll see! You just want me dead!" and never actually doing it. Always resulting in me crying. I once said that I would call the police if she were to do anything strange, because I was scared and far away from her. I had no idea what else I could do; I was not there in person with her.
The next year resulted her in bringing it up again and again-- that I'm betraying her to even threaten to call the cops on her! That because I "want" her to be put into a mental house because she tried to kill herself! That's what the cops would do! That's me betraying her trust! She can't trust me anymore because I "threatened" to call the cops because she said she would kill herself! I'm fucking scared out of my wits! This person I love says she's going to kill herself and she's miles away! What do I fucking do!? What am I supposed to do? Pray to God? Pray to someone? Tell someone? ... keep it to myself...?
Every day I talked to her. Most of those conversations were about our days, things we saw... things we read... and the it would always lead to her talking about how she hates herself.
I told myself, just because one is depressed does not mean that they do not deserve love.
But her depression affected how she treated me. Can she not see that I'm hurting when she says that I really don't think she's beautiful? Can she not see that I'm hurting when I tell her that I love her, only to have her tell me "you don't"? Can she not see that I'm hurting when I say I care, only to have her tell me that I don't...? Days and days and days of this... I finally broke down. At any little thing when she was depressed, I would crack.
Finally, I tried to find a way to cope. I started to tell myself to be neutral-- if I were to not care enough yet care enough, I would find that my pain would be easier to handle. I kept telling myself that she only says those words and never means them, I kept telling myself to keep up the pace and tell counter all of her negative thoughts with positivity.
I'm a human being and I can only go for so long.
It pained me.
It ate at me. It tortured me.
My friends could see how slowly I was getting depressed when I'm around them, how I kept more silent than usual, how I cooped myself up in my room. How I never came out anymore.
I smiled less.
I slept in the early hours of the morning from insomnia.
Not to mention... if I were to sleep early, Haruka would make fun of me. Tell me how weak I am. That if she could run on 6 hours of sleep, so could I. Aren't we humans different? Do we not run on different amounts of sleep? What one person can sleep for an hour every two-three hours, can this other person do the same? I really don't think so.
When I was younger, I did say a lot of things that I would always take back. But I learned over time. Sometimes when you're angry, you shouldn't say those things.
As an adult, I said those fewer and fewer. Then she moved out of her house into her father's.
She became more particular, and with it, she treated me the same way her father did. I became paranoid along with her, along with her father...
It was a bad chain of effects.
Those memories she writes of. It's all from her point of view. We both enjoyed those days. Look at so much of what we did.
It was everyday. We went to the mall so many times everyday to the point where I memorized which store had closed down and which store had newly opened.
But I was tired.
I wanted to sit in the car and just chat, and she always wanted to go somewhere. I was still, and she always wanted to move. Don't get me wrong. I like going to the mall, I like movies, I like San Francisco. But to do it everyday, and then everyday almost... I was a very tired girl. I also started having a big hole in my pocket. If I were to complain about money matters, she would call me cheap. ... but I grew up poor. Of course money is important to me. I need to save money. I didn't have a job like her. And when I did, we still spent so much... she'd always buy clothes, so much clothes... I mean, I loved her clothes, but... it's sooo... much clothes.
We didn't match like this.
She writes how I've made it a public spectacle. I haven't even written a discriptor on my LJ-cuts. She wrote an entry about this situation before I did. There was a previous entry that was LJ-cutted and I was frazzled, I was upset, I was angry. It was because... it was my soul, my mental state, screaming, "Help me. I want to leave this situation, I want to be free! Please, let me move on with my young life!"
Her previous entry about seeing me, the teacup. It's written like a story. It's got a beginning, and end, a climax... it's got descriptions that are fit to be published somewhere. It's got a personal touch to it. That's the way she is each time something happens. And at the end of it all, she would exclaim, "I did it. I won." How could she write so much hateful insults and focus so much importance on the visual aspect of what one person wears and looks and not focus on the actual situation better? You're too busy thinking about how my face has pimples, how my hair is tied up, a supposed old chinese people smell when I have no chinese medicines in my room. How I'm smelly and haven't taken a shower. So then when you think about the facts of the situation:
1) Michiru is in her room.
2) Michiru does not pick up calls.
3) Haruka enters room without permission.
4) Haruka does not live in Santa Cruz.
5) Haruka wants a teacup.
6) Michiru and Haruka agreed to meet in two weeks, and it was already previously arranged before this teacup fiasco.
7) Michiru does listen to her voicemails, and reads e-mails, and text messages.
8) Haruka previously agreed to not speak to Michiru again until two weeks later.
Of course somehow that means Michiru is wrong, because you've painted such an image of monstrosity to her. So if she says that she will give you her own cup, and you refuse, and then later ask you to leave, you demand for hers, isn't that a strange... 360? A strange turn. She offered her own cup which you refused. She asked you to leave and to get your cup in two weeks if that is the case that you do not wish to accept her cup. It's her apartment. At her school. You don't live in Santa Cruz. You entered her room and she did not pick up her calls.
What if she wasn't home?
What if Michiru wasn't there in her room?
You would have essentially entered without permission, still. This time, without the occupant.
How is that day wrong? How did I wrong that day? She laughs about how if I were to call the campus police, they would laugh at me for I have only reported a person who was simply defending herself. But who was really defending themselves?
I didn't push her. Shanna saw us from a mirror, behind the door (not even directly behind it), with my door 50% propped open (my laundry basket is behind it so it can't open all the way), and with a person in front of her, blocking the doorway, essentially blocking view of me.
Of course she didn't see me get pushed. Of course. But I'm sure she saw Haruka kick my shoes on the way out. I'm sure she saw Haruka slam my door when she left. I would not have had enough time to close the door even if I wanted to. I was already next to my water boiler/heater after being pushed.
The facts, regardless of what action had occured after just only prove more that Haruka was being strange in coming to my apartment. Just because her cup was in my dormitory it gave her the right to intrude? She could have left me a voicemail to send her cup in two weeks. Why was the cup so urgent? This wasn't about a cup.
Read her entry again. Think about if someone was entering YOUR house and then writing about how you were the massive evil that had their things. Think about how if you weren't to pick up your phone, would it be right for someone to enter regardless? Campus police would not have taken her side. She is a foreign person in this campus, she is not a UCSC student, she is not a Porter residence.
Yet, I still didn't report for harrassment. She says that she was defending herself by pushing me... but I didn't push her at all. I didn't even want to touch her. Her later telling me on my voicemails that she KNEW something would happen and how she purposely brought Shanna with her to see. It's stupid. It just proves even more how she thinks our relationship was some game of winning and losing. Of proving. Of debate.
I won't forget her. I won't think badly of her. I never did.
She says I screened calls.
The fact of the matter is, I avoided everyone. I didn't log myself into chat programs. I didn't pick up my cell phone, no matter who it was. I didn't pick up my room phone anymore. My friends had a hard time to contact me.
This is still the end. This is a new time in my life, and this time, I'm sorry, but she is not a part of it. We had many good years together, and that is what I will remember. I will more than likely forget the events above had I not written about it.
Never had I stopped wishing for her happiness. But never had she stopped telling me that I didn't care. That's the difference.
I said I'm happy you got an A+ on your poem. If only you'd believe it.
I thank you for the past we had together, but I cannot bring myself to thank you for the recent years.