(no subject)
I feel bad. Rene came online tonight, and the first talked about was that he hated Americans and the he had met some random Cuban guy who told him that "sex was healthy." Both were said to get some kind of reaction from me, and I did have one. I finally just told him goodbye. I don't even know why I've held on so long to this idea that we had a friendship. Almost every time we talk, we argue about something, mostly about the course of his life. He tells me about all the things he does, knowing that the stupid person in me that has to care about everyone will react. And I know he does it because he wanted to drive me away. I'm the only one in his life who says anything about what he does. I'm the only one in his life that questions him. But he doesn't really need me. He's not stupid, he knows what he's doing, he knows that inside him it makes him feel as empty as always. He knows that I worry about him getting hurt or worse. He doesn't care about any of that, and I can't keep putting myself through that fight each time. So I'm cutting my losses. I realize that there's nothing I can do, that maybe it was all inevitable. That maybe there never was any hope. Maybe I think too much of myself for even believing there was anything I could or should do. Maybe this is like that time I tried to convince that 20-something cancer guy to try and live. I try to save the world too much, and it's not one that wants to be saved. So who is the bigger fool?
I hate myself for what I said to him.
I hate myself for what I said to him.