Leslie
I am making this post as a record of my past. These entries were written before I had a LiveJournal. I like the way I can manage “memories” here, and since I just paid for another year’s membership, I thought I may as well take advantage.
Do not read beyond this unless you have an interest in my past.
Mar 02 2002 04:21am
Why can't I cry?
Oh my god. Why can't I cry? Why do these tears well up inside me and build, emotion brewing inside of me like a storm... my world is a focused provence of pain right now. I am throbbing inside and it's showing on the outside. I'm sniffling right now... my eyes are puffy and clouded with tears that won't fall.
My dearest love has just gone to have a cigarette and I know she probably won't be back tonight, because she's going to sleep with Jared instead of me in my own fucking house. I just got out of bed to pen my emotion, because I can't seem to release it any other way.
When I sat down, there was a message waiting for me from my ex-girlfriend with a link that she wanted me to visit... I clicked on that link, and it took me to one of her journal entries. Apparently she is extremely happy with her life now, and for that I am thankful... but in this particular entry, she thanked everyone that has meaning in her life. She thanked me. She said "all i want is for you to be happy. and you are. you are so happy now.. and so am i."
My fucking God, it hurts so much to read that. To see that she thinks I'm happy, when I'm slowly crumbling to pieces. I cannot take much more of this. I really, really can't. I am more in love than I remember ever being since Jennifer. I would give the fucking world for Leslie... I would stand high and dare the moon to strike me down where I stand, giving everything that I am to her. I would surrender everything that has ever and will ever make me happy for her, just to see her happy. But what tears me apart is that there is absolutely fucking nothing I can do that will make her happy... I could lie to her and pretend that everything between us is perfect. I could lie to myself. I could pretend to have that fairytale love that everyone only dreams of. But I will not live in a lie.
I just heard the door open and close. I know that she's back inside and it's been a few minutes now. I know she's outside of my door, on the couch, with Jared. Jared, a trusted friend. I know that his heart is true... he would never hurt me. Would he? ...How the fuck can I trust anyone in this world after what I've been through? I swear to God, if he hurts my love I will show him a world of pain that he could never imagine.
I think I would do well by simply ending what is between her and Jared, and I tried, thinking it to be the easiest solution to the problem... to keep it simple, between myself, Leslie and our worlds of love for one another... but what are those worlds of love worth if my touch is unwelcome? I have tried many, many open relationships in the past. Mostly, they were with women who were very warm to me, all of the time, regardless of who else they were fucking. And yes, I mean FUCKING, not SLEEPING TOGETHER. The latter implies something much more meaningful than a casual fuck-buddy relationship. In the former, I can well imagine the sensory bliss that takes place between participants... raw, animalistic fucking that results in a complete, euphoric, senseless haven of lust. I don't have a problem with that. The latter, however, results in mixed feelings.
When a woman tries to please two or more men at the same time emotionally, she will find herself challenged with something that is not possible for any living human woman that retains honesty and integrity. Most women could please more than one man physically, no question about that. But emotions are much more fickle, much more demanding. When you're in your one true love's house, and there's another man that you're "sleeping with" there (even though you're completely fucking infatuated with him), when the party is over and it's time to sleep, who do you go to bed with? Gee, tough question right? Sweet fucking Jesus. The one shred of truth that I depend on in an open relationship is that you can fuck anyone you want, but you always come home to me. You always come to bed with me. And you have the fucking NERVE to ask me if I'd MIND you sleeping with him. How the fuck can you ask me that?
I have memories of shared moments between myself and Leslie in a world that isn't truly real... something called the internet. All of those years we spent together there, getting to know eachother... and now that we've met in real life, I am realizing that I don't know who the fuck she is, deep inside. I look upon her and long to do nothing but caress her skin, kiss her gently and hold her close to me... and she shrugs away from me, as cold as a brick wall. She tells me that she wants a cigarette, and I know in my heart that she won't be back to see me at all afterword until tomorrow. This is going to be the longest night of my life. In a simple phrase, she has told me that she just wants to be rid of me. Well, fuck you too Leslie.
God, I want to die. I haven't been suicidal since I lived on that platinum mine those many years ago... not since the sun poured down in hot, soul-splintering waves upon my tent roof to make it act as an oven to bake my mind into hopelessness.
Now I have a new truth. I know that if things continue this way (and I have made this clear to her on countless occasions), I am going to completely die inside and become an empty shell. I can't let that happen. God, I barely have the energy to type anymore. I just want to curl up and waste away. My stomach hurts so fucking bad. It's not because I drank tonight. It's because she's killing me with every little cold shoulder she gives me. I have been regularly vomiting blood because of this... If I try to hold onto this it's going to kill me... but God, it's going to bury me alive to lose her.
Mar 22 2002 01:11am
A Kiss Good-bye
Unbelievable. Somehow, I still manage to care.
Why do I care? Why does it matter to me that you have been gone all night with Andrew, Heather's ex-boyfriend? Well, first of all, that's a major assumption, but it's the only thing that makes sense. I was out with Jared tonight, Chris had a date, and those are the only two people you know in this city that you'd spend any amount of time with. Except Andrew. I had noticed his name on your contact list a few days earlier and was slightly disconcerted. It didn't make a lot of sense to me that you had any reason to speak to Andrew.
I brushed it aside and continued to place my blind, ignorant faith in you. It was stupid of me to ever trust you, or to think that you were any different from the women I have been with in the past. Women who have lied, betrayed, decieved... you have done two of these things now (I know you would disagree, but again, as usual, you fail to see things from my perspective). To allow you to see from my perspective, let me continue:
betrayal - {I suspect that your motives behind originally asking Chris for Andrew's screen name were not pure. From what I have seen in the past, I am now inclined to believe that you have been plotting this moment for some time, and that you are only trying to hurt Heather and I by walking the path you've chosen. You have betrayed our memory with your bitterness, you have betrayed your pseudo-friendship with Heather, and you have betrayed your right to ever be respected as a human being. It astounds me that you could pass such wool over my eyes, that I might believe in you and trust you for six long years. You were right... I don't know you. I had no idea what kind of monster you really are. Perhaps you are seeking solace in the arms of another and I have this all wrong, but it looks like bitterness and spite to me, and since I no longer trust a word that comes out of your mouth, nothing you will say can change this.}
deception - {You have decieved me in many ways. We have already been over this, but for clarity's sake, I will continue. You have led me to believe that you used marijuana for medicinal purposes: that when you are in pain, it acts as a gateway to solace and comfort, a bit of relaxation. This is something I can respect. Something that would be wonderful if only it were true, but no... you enjoy it too much to leave it at just that. You do it when you're bored, you do it when you're stressed, you do it while you're in pain (emotional and physical)...
pot•head - n. Slang - One who habitually smokes marijuana.
You are a pothead, Leslie. Plain and simple. You can hate that word all you want and it will still be true. You can spite me all you want, but I doubt you could go farther than you already have. Anyway, your deception does not stop there. The way you keep things from me for so long without speaking a word -- perhaps you are formulating your thoughts, or you "aren't ready to talk about it yet", but I feel that with most of these issues, I have had the right to know. Instead of telling me outright, you leave me to brew about it, to wonder... you let the thoughts fester in my mind and gnaw at my stomach. Which, after telling me something, only leaves me to wonder what more unspoken issues lie unresolved in the pit of your consciousness.
In all ways you have always sought to please me (to my knowledge) -- be it to impress me, to make me happy, or otherwise -- and I can respect that, but in doing so you have decieved me. You have shown me a person that does not exist. I have loved that person, and now I know that it was a helpless fiction. In knowing, I have moved on, and it's good to see that you're ready to "move on" as well, if that's even what this Andrew bit is about. If it is, that's great... I mean that. But if it is a spiteful vice, an indulgance of that degrading appetite you have for drama and games, I want no part in it, or you. You are gone in three days. Praise the Lord.}
Now, back to the original point. Why do I care? I care because we have been close, dear friends for six long years (it has felt like an eternity), and I have loved you very dearly, and even though now I know the person I loved was wrought largely of fiction, the caring does not fade entirely. When you left last night, to go "out", I had no idea where you were going. I had not caught onto this Andrew bit. I first assumed that you were going out with Chris, but it didn't matter. I was absolutely livid. I wanted to breathe smoke and become an incarnation of impurity in that moment. I wanted to writhe under the coiled whip of some dark god to become a servant of iniquity. I wanted to murder, pillage and destroy.
And most of all, I wanted to hate you. I wanted to hate you so badly that I could taste it in my mouth. That dry, cotton-like taste of emotional pain, anger... whatever it may have been in that moment. I went out that night and Jared would not leave my side, because he knew the implications of leaving me alone with a car, knives and unspeakable anger. I was trembling with rage and he knew it. I thank Jared for that now. He is a true friend.
It wasn't until later, after I went out with Heather, that I realized Chris was innocent and had not spoken to you. Who did that leave? Jared had been with me all night and Chris had an alibi. It was then that I remembered that I had seen Andrew's name on your list, and it all made sense. Chris then suggested that you might be out with Andrew, and he asked me if it was a mistake for him to give you his screen name. Only a confirmation of what I had already suspected.
So it was then, at the moment I had nearly fully recovered that it hit me again. Pure, unadulterated anger and disgust. Anger because I could not BELIEVE you would do something like that, and disgust because it truly sickens me to see you stoop to such base, vile levels. It hardens my heart to see what appears to be you, out with Andrew ALL night, rubbing it in everyone's face without saying a word. God only knows what you two have been doing, but it's 10am now... I have barely slept tonight. My stomach is an aching, bottomless pit of agony.
I'm sure you are thinking that I have no right to be upset in light of what I have done with Heather... but what I have done is not at all the same as spending the night with my new girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. At this point in time, I sincerely believe that what you have done was premeditated. Why else would you have wanted his screen name? Why else would you have hidden your intended destination last night with a short, cutting response? Why would you have talked to him all of this time?
Now I sit, after allowing a thousand scenarios to play through my mind, with dried tears on my face. At least I woke to find that you are okay... which rules out about three dozen different instances I had considered. I was not even certain that you were out with Andrew, though it was the only option that really made any sense. Now that I know you're alright and I see that you have had internet access, it is a certainty. You have scarred me deeply, and now I really am going to need a lot of time to recover. I hope you are satisfied. Your mission is complete.
May 02 2002 02:31am
Why does she react to things the way she does?
She asked me if I was upset. A very simple question and I gave her a very simple answer. I was not trying to start a fight. I was not trying to start an argument. I was simply offended by the fact (and this has been done to me before, so I have very little tolerance for it) that she would say something like "You have already been put on pussy probation for one day, you wanna add another?"
The tone of her voice, the look in her eye... it all made me think that she was completely serious. I couldn't do much aside from gawk and stare at her in complete disbelief that she would say something that fucked up, to try and hold something like that over me to get what she wanted. I have never been the kind of man that submits to anything of that nature, nor will I ever be. Call me intolerant, call me touchy.
I didn't even really confront her about it. I let it slip... don't ask me why, I wouldn't generally. I suppose I am more patient with her than with most. But when she came in from playing her game, I asked her whether or not she'd mind if I hung out with Heather this evening... that's when she asked if I was upset, the mini-argument took place, and then she said, "Go hang out with Heather... fuck her if you want"... why with the insecurities? It's plain that the possibility of sex bothers her, though I don't know why... we're in an open relationship... although that thought was quite distant from my mind. All I wanted to do was vent because I was/am upset.
Nov 02 2002 12:27am
In response to your diary post, Leslie:
You wanted me to stay and hold you? You have no shame in selfishness, do you? I have stayed on so many occasions where all I wanted was to leave. I have stayed for you. I have stayed because my love for you is true. Your words were far more bitter than mine could have ever been. "I have absolutely no use for you." You know what that tells me? It tells me that my true efforts at making you feel better, at apologizing, were unaccepted and unwanted, and that I am unwanted. You know damn well what I do when I'm unwanted. And you know damn well why I did what I did. Why I left. I don't have any fucking need to apologize to you. Cold, heartless and selfish is what you are to me right now. You want to slap yourself for ever believing me... well hon, you believed in me just enough to hurt yourself and not enough for me to really do anything for you. I always talk about how you need to "have faith"... you never did, and from what I'm seeing now, you never will.
Ever relationship has rough points like these. You cling to your forgiveness like a wolf protecting her cubs... I have already given mine and allowed my anger to slip away, so that I may feel the emotions that I cherish so very much, and hate all the same. I love you, Leslie. Nothing will ever change that. No argument, no bickering could ever alter my feelings for you. That is true now and always. But if you want to walk away because of this, please do. Don't lie to me or to yourself about what you want. Stop leading me on and do whatever it is that you want, if you have any fucking idea what that is.
Do not read beyond this unless you have an interest in my past.
Mar 02 2002 04:21am
Why can't I cry?
Oh my god. Why can't I cry? Why do these tears well up inside me and build, emotion brewing inside of me like a storm... my world is a focused provence of pain right now. I am throbbing inside and it's showing on the outside. I'm sniffling right now... my eyes are puffy and clouded with tears that won't fall.
My dearest love has just gone to have a cigarette and I know she probably won't be back tonight, because she's going to sleep with Jared instead of me in my own fucking house. I just got out of bed to pen my emotion, because I can't seem to release it any other way.
When I sat down, there was a message waiting for me from my ex-girlfriend with a link that she wanted me to visit... I clicked on that link, and it took me to one of her journal entries. Apparently she is extremely happy with her life now, and for that I am thankful... but in this particular entry, she thanked everyone that has meaning in her life. She thanked me. She said "all i want is for you to be happy. and you are. you are so happy now.. and so am i."
My fucking God, it hurts so much to read that. To see that she thinks I'm happy, when I'm slowly crumbling to pieces. I cannot take much more of this. I really, really can't. I am more in love than I remember ever being since Jennifer. I would give the fucking world for Leslie... I would stand high and dare the moon to strike me down where I stand, giving everything that I am to her. I would surrender everything that has ever and will ever make me happy for her, just to see her happy. But what tears me apart is that there is absolutely fucking nothing I can do that will make her happy... I could lie to her and pretend that everything between us is perfect. I could lie to myself. I could pretend to have that fairytale love that everyone only dreams of. But I will not live in a lie.
I just heard the door open and close. I know that she's back inside and it's been a few minutes now. I know she's outside of my door, on the couch, with Jared. Jared, a trusted friend. I know that his heart is true... he would never hurt me. Would he? ...How the fuck can I trust anyone in this world after what I've been through? I swear to God, if he hurts my love I will show him a world of pain that he could never imagine.
I think I would do well by simply ending what is between her and Jared, and I tried, thinking it to be the easiest solution to the problem... to keep it simple, between myself, Leslie and our worlds of love for one another... but what are those worlds of love worth if my touch is unwelcome? I have tried many, many open relationships in the past. Mostly, they were with women who were very warm to me, all of the time, regardless of who else they were fucking. And yes, I mean FUCKING, not SLEEPING TOGETHER. The latter implies something much more meaningful than a casual fuck-buddy relationship. In the former, I can well imagine the sensory bliss that takes place between participants... raw, animalistic fucking that results in a complete, euphoric, senseless haven of lust. I don't have a problem with that. The latter, however, results in mixed feelings.
When a woman tries to please two or more men at the same time emotionally, she will find herself challenged with something that is not possible for any living human woman that retains honesty and integrity. Most women could please more than one man physically, no question about that. But emotions are much more fickle, much more demanding. When you're in your one true love's house, and there's another man that you're "sleeping with" there (even though you're completely fucking infatuated with him), when the party is over and it's time to sleep, who do you go to bed with? Gee, tough question right? Sweet fucking Jesus. The one shred of truth that I depend on in an open relationship is that you can fuck anyone you want, but you always come home to me. You always come to bed with me. And you have the fucking NERVE to ask me if I'd MIND you sleeping with him. How the fuck can you ask me that?
I have memories of shared moments between myself and Leslie in a world that isn't truly real... something called the internet. All of those years we spent together there, getting to know eachother... and now that we've met in real life, I am realizing that I don't know who the fuck she is, deep inside. I look upon her and long to do nothing but caress her skin, kiss her gently and hold her close to me... and she shrugs away from me, as cold as a brick wall. She tells me that she wants a cigarette, and I know in my heart that she won't be back to see me at all afterword until tomorrow. This is going to be the longest night of my life. In a simple phrase, she has told me that she just wants to be rid of me. Well, fuck you too Leslie.
God, I want to die. I haven't been suicidal since I lived on that platinum mine those many years ago... not since the sun poured down in hot, soul-splintering waves upon my tent roof to make it act as an oven to bake my mind into hopelessness.
Now I have a new truth. I know that if things continue this way (and I have made this clear to her on countless occasions), I am going to completely die inside and become an empty shell. I can't let that happen. God, I barely have the energy to type anymore. I just want to curl up and waste away. My stomach hurts so fucking bad. It's not because I drank tonight. It's because she's killing me with every little cold shoulder she gives me. I have been regularly vomiting blood because of this... If I try to hold onto this it's going to kill me... but God, it's going to bury me alive to lose her.
Mar 22 2002 01:11am
A Kiss Good-bye
Unbelievable. Somehow, I still manage to care.
Why do I care? Why does it matter to me that you have been gone all night with Andrew, Heather's ex-boyfriend? Well, first of all, that's a major assumption, but it's the only thing that makes sense. I was out with Jared tonight, Chris had a date, and those are the only two people you know in this city that you'd spend any amount of time with. Except Andrew. I had noticed his name on your contact list a few days earlier and was slightly disconcerted. It didn't make a lot of sense to me that you had any reason to speak to Andrew.
I brushed it aside and continued to place my blind, ignorant faith in you. It was stupid of me to ever trust you, or to think that you were any different from the women I have been with in the past. Women who have lied, betrayed, decieved... you have done two of these things now (I know you would disagree, but again, as usual, you fail to see things from my perspective). To allow you to see from my perspective, let me continue:
betrayal - {I suspect that your motives behind originally asking Chris for Andrew's screen name were not pure. From what I have seen in the past, I am now inclined to believe that you have been plotting this moment for some time, and that you are only trying to hurt Heather and I by walking the path you've chosen. You have betrayed our memory with your bitterness, you have betrayed your pseudo-friendship with Heather, and you have betrayed your right to ever be respected as a human being. It astounds me that you could pass such wool over my eyes, that I might believe in you and trust you for six long years. You were right... I don't know you. I had no idea what kind of monster you really are. Perhaps you are seeking solace in the arms of another and I have this all wrong, but it looks like bitterness and spite to me, and since I no longer trust a word that comes out of your mouth, nothing you will say can change this.}
deception - {You have decieved me in many ways. We have already been over this, but for clarity's sake, I will continue. You have led me to believe that you used marijuana for medicinal purposes: that when you are in pain, it acts as a gateway to solace and comfort, a bit of relaxation. This is something I can respect. Something that would be wonderful if only it were true, but no... you enjoy it too much to leave it at just that. You do it when you're bored, you do it when you're stressed, you do it while you're in pain (emotional and physical)...
pot•head - n. Slang - One who habitually smokes marijuana.
You are a pothead, Leslie. Plain and simple. You can hate that word all you want and it will still be true. You can spite me all you want, but I doubt you could go farther than you already have. Anyway, your deception does not stop there. The way you keep things from me for so long without speaking a word -- perhaps you are formulating your thoughts, or you "aren't ready to talk about it yet", but I feel that with most of these issues, I have had the right to know. Instead of telling me outright, you leave me to brew about it, to wonder... you let the thoughts fester in my mind and gnaw at my stomach. Which, after telling me something, only leaves me to wonder what more unspoken issues lie unresolved in the pit of your consciousness.
In all ways you have always sought to please me (to my knowledge) -- be it to impress me, to make me happy, or otherwise -- and I can respect that, but in doing so you have decieved me. You have shown me a person that does not exist. I have loved that person, and now I know that it was a helpless fiction. In knowing, I have moved on, and it's good to see that you're ready to "move on" as well, if that's even what this Andrew bit is about. If it is, that's great... I mean that. But if it is a spiteful vice, an indulgance of that degrading appetite you have for drama and games, I want no part in it, or you. You are gone in three days. Praise the Lord.}
Now, back to the original point. Why do I care? I care because we have been close, dear friends for six long years (it has felt like an eternity), and I have loved you very dearly, and even though now I know the person I loved was wrought largely of fiction, the caring does not fade entirely. When you left last night, to go "out", I had no idea where you were going. I had not caught onto this Andrew bit. I first assumed that you were going out with Chris, but it didn't matter. I was absolutely livid. I wanted to breathe smoke and become an incarnation of impurity in that moment. I wanted to writhe under the coiled whip of some dark god to become a servant of iniquity. I wanted to murder, pillage and destroy.
And most of all, I wanted to hate you. I wanted to hate you so badly that I could taste it in my mouth. That dry, cotton-like taste of emotional pain, anger... whatever it may have been in that moment. I went out that night and Jared would not leave my side, because he knew the implications of leaving me alone with a car, knives and unspeakable anger. I was trembling with rage and he knew it. I thank Jared for that now. He is a true friend.
It wasn't until later, after I went out with Heather, that I realized Chris was innocent and had not spoken to you. Who did that leave? Jared had been with me all night and Chris had an alibi. It was then that I remembered that I had seen Andrew's name on your list, and it all made sense. Chris then suggested that you might be out with Andrew, and he asked me if it was a mistake for him to give you his screen name. Only a confirmation of what I had already suspected.
So it was then, at the moment I had nearly fully recovered that it hit me again. Pure, unadulterated anger and disgust. Anger because I could not BELIEVE you would do something like that, and disgust because it truly sickens me to see you stoop to such base, vile levels. It hardens my heart to see what appears to be you, out with Andrew ALL night, rubbing it in everyone's face without saying a word. God only knows what you two have been doing, but it's 10am now... I have barely slept tonight. My stomach is an aching, bottomless pit of agony.
I'm sure you are thinking that I have no right to be upset in light of what I have done with Heather... but what I have done is not at all the same as spending the night with my new girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. At this point in time, I sincerely believe that what you have done was premeditated. Why else would you have wanted his screen name? Why else would you have hidden your intended destination last night with a short, cutting response? Why would you have talked to him all of this time?
Now I sit, after allowing a thousand scenarios to play through my mind, with dried tears on my face. At least I woke to find that you are okay... which rules out about three dozen different instances I had considered. I was not even certain that you were out with Andrew, though it was the only option that really made any sense. Now that I know you're alright and I see that you have had internet access, it is a certainty. You have scarred me deeply, and now I really am going to need a lot of time to recover. I hope you are satisfied. Your mission is complete.
May 02 2002 02:31am
Why does she react to things the way she does?
She asked me if I was upset. A very simple question and I gave her a very simple answer. I was not trying to start a fight. I was not trying to start an argument. I was simply offended by the fact (and this has been done to me before, so I have very little tolerance for it) that she would say something like "You have already been put on pussy probation for one day, you wanna add another?"
The tone of her voice, the look in her eye... it all made me think that she was completely serious. I couldn't do much aside from gawk and stare at her in complete disbelief that she would say something that fucked up, to try and hold something like that over me to get what she wanted. I have never been the kind of man that submits to anything of that nature, nor will I ever be. Call me intolerant, call me touchy.
I didn't even really confront her about it. I let it slip... don't ask me why, I wouldn't generally. I suppose I am more patient with her than with most. But when she came in from playing her game, I asked her whether or not she'd mind if I hung out with Heather this evening... that's when she asked if I was upset, the mini-argument took place, and then she said, "Go hang out with Heather... fuck her if you want"... why with the insecurities? It's plain that the possibility of sex bothers her, though I don't know why... we're in an open relationship... although that thought was quite distant from my mind. All I wanted to do was vent because I was/am upset.
Nov 02 2002 12:27am
In response to your diary post, Leslie:
You wanted me to stay and hold you? You have no shame in selfishness, do you? I have stayed on so many occasions where all I wanted was to leave. I have stayed for you. I have stayed because my love for you is true. Your words were far more bitter than mine could have ever been. "I have absolutely no use for you." You know what that tells me? It tells me that my true efforts at making you feel better, at apologizing, were unaccepted and unwanted, and that I am unwanted. You know damn well what I do when I'm unwanted. And you know damn well why I did what I did. Why I left. I don't have any fucking need to apologize to you. Cold, heartless and selfish is what you are to me right now. You want to slap yourself for ever believing me... well hon, you believed in me just enough to hurt yourself and not enough for me to really do anything for you. I always talk about how you need to "have faith"... you never did, and from what I'm seeing now, you never will.
Ever relationship has rough points like these. You cling to your forgiveness like a wolf protecting her cubs... I have already given mine and allowed my anger to slip away, so that I may feel the emotions that I cherish so very much, and hate all the same. I love you, Leslie. Nothing will ever change that. No argument, no bickering could ever alter my feelings for you. That is true now and always. But if you want to walk away because of this, please do. Don't lie to me or to yourself about what you want. Stop leading me on and do whatever it is that you want, if you have any fucking idea what that is.