(no subject)
The funniest thing about the whole fucked-up mess is that people, unsolicited, very readily ask me to look at you in a way that strikes me as borderline sociopathic by thinking of it as an investment that went wrong--and yet, if you had actually been exploiting me for money instead of emotional comfort, if you had followed this precise pattern and left when I couldn't keep you financially comfortable instead of leaving when it became clear that I was going to be incapacitated as a provider of emotional comfort for a while, no one would hesitate to recognize you as a con artist and an exploitative disaster whom no one should ever fucking trust, rather than insisting that you'd surely got reasons, understandable reasons, for leaving once the money was gone.
The best bit is that it's not that I just don't trust new people; I don't trust anyone. I'd known you for years before I knew that your problems were things best friends helped with, while my problems, though I took extreme care never to ask more of you than I'd given in the past, were gross signs of dependence. Everyone who thinks you're a really good sort who's just misunderstood and not at all in the wrong now is probably right; I mean I was one of your best friends, and I am generally very very good at seeing things coming and making inferences, and I didn't see it coming, so if they see no evidence in your behaviour to them of your willingness to betray someone horribly, that means something, it really does.
It's a bit hard for me to imagine that a relationship that meets a natural end leaves anyone wishing that the other person had been a proper con artist, because if you'd been attracted to money I'd have been safe! I wouldn't have to have ever dealt with anyone telling me that books I couldn't afford to replace were effectively yours because I trustingly lent them to you and you declined to return them, and telling me that I was acting tremendously entitled in expecting you to keep your promises.
You once told me that you knew exactly how to lay on the compliments and concern to make relationships cater to you; I remember it because "gravy train" was such a grotesque and unfamiliar turn of phrase to me that I had to look it up.
The best bit is that it's not that I just don't trust new people; I don't trust anyone. I'd known you for years before I knew that your problems were things best friends helped with, while my problems, though I took extreme care never to ask more of you than I'd given in the past, were gross signs of dependence. Everyone who thinks you're a really good sort who's just misunderstood and not at all in the wrong now is probably right; I mean I was one of your best friends, and I am generally very very good at seeing things coming and making inferences, and I didn't see it coming, so if they see no evidence in your behaviour to them of your willingness to betray someone horribly, that means something, it really does.
It's a bit hard for me to imagine that a relationship that meets a natural end leaves anyone wishing that the other person had been a proper con artist, because if you'd been attracted to money I'd have been safe! I wouldn't have to have ever dealt with anyone telling me that books I couldn't afford to replace were effectively yours because I trustingly lent them to you and you declined to return them, and telling me that I was acting tremendously entitled in expecting you to keep your promises.
You once told me that you knew exactly how to lay on the compliments and concern to make relationships cater to you; I remember it because "gravy train" was such a grotesque and unfamiliar turn of phrase to me that I had to look it up.