Vomit
Me: http://qu***-w**n.blogspot.com/
Me: I do believe that she has nicknamed me "fucknut" in her diary.
Me: Yes, that is me.
Me: I want to know. I want to know regardless of how it hurts, and I want to be honest and then let it all go.
Me: I need it, and she needs it and deserves it. I have done a lot of wrong by her and have come a long way. But the time has come to be a man and face the truth of all of it and if she can recognize anything worthwhile in that, then so be it.
Me: I apologized to Era for my selfishness and my pain that colors everything I do and live with, and for the guilt and shame I have over having hurt so many so much when every one of my intentions has only ever been for good, to build and heal rather than to cut and scar, and the harder I have tried the more harm I have done. And truthfully, I no longer have any illusions about anyone ever forgiving me for any of it.
Me: I apologize to you as well, even though there probably hasn't been a whole lot there with us for me to really apologize for. I'll leave that up to you to decide. The people who deserve an apology the most are those who would never accept it, and who would probably be harmed further by my trying any more to do so.
A Friend: You don't have anything to apologize to me for.
Me: I hope they can someday learn about this, about me, about what was really here in me and what wasn't, and that it might bring them some comfort. All else I have to offer that wouldn't make things worse is silence, I guess.
A Friend: I think that is a good thing to hope for. Probably the most loving thing to hope for.
Me: I clung to the hope Christina gave me for a very, very long time. The hope that maybe I wasn't really poison, my best intentions to the contrary. My hope that I could somehow be forgiven and redeemed, by someone, most especially by the one person who really gave me something to reach for, who really suggested we could find that path together, and that they would be there with me, that they ACCEPTED me, than I was not poison or bad or evil but someone who could learn and grow and was worth going through hard times with.
Me: All I did was hurt her and scar her. The same way I have done almost exclusively with everyone I have ever touched, and the more I have drawn myself to someone, the more harm I've done to those people. And I have to live with that every day, and it's become a terrible burden for me over the years, as I am sure you are no doubt aware.
A Friend: I am. I feel the same way about people I've known more often than I probably say.
A Friend: Known/loved/etc.
Me: I suppose all I want to say to Christina is that I read what she wrote, and she is right about a lot, and I am sorry, and will leave her alone and wish I'd never harmed her at all. If she wants more, wants to know and understand, I couldn't ask for anything more in my life, but I certainly haven't earned it from her, and I owe her a very great deal, rather than the other way around.
Me: And I wish her peace, and I hope she finds what I have always wanted to find; and for once in my life truly believed I could find, with her help. Intentions don't mean shit, and the hardest thing I could probably do in life is to accept that people have written me off and that trying to heal that on my part will do more harm than good, and to let them go at whatever expense to myself and my own hopes and dreams and who knows what.
Me: I am truly sorry. If I could go back and prevent myself from having been in her life, I wouldn't hesitate.
Me: And the closest I can come is to leave it out there for her to know that I heard, and I understood, and that there will be no more scar tissue because of me. If she wants to rail against me, I will listen and not complain. If she wants to turn her back forever, I will not follow.
A Friend: That was a really beautiful and sad thing to say.
Me: No more notes, no more gifts, no more plans based on hope I am redeemable. I accept my fate where she is concerned, and anything she needs from me to heal is hers, including my disappearance.
A Friend: I wish I knew what would make it -- if not better, then “even”, I guess. I don't know the right word.
Me: Thank you. I don't want to press this on her, I know that just makes it worse. In a dream world, I'd love for her to understand that this sentiment has been the core of my being for as long as I have been alive, and I abhor the fact that my wishes and hopes have done so much more harm than good over the years, most especially to her. And of course to Maya as well; I had no idea how horribly unfair or hurtful I was to her until long after we'd ended, and I bear probably even more guilt over that than over Christina, because Maya submitted to me. I know now what it is to have that faith in some measure misplaced, and I owe the both of them (and many more people) a great deal. If they can find ways for me to repay that besides silent assent and not trying to be heard any more, they are welcome to it.
Me: As I told Eradea, I have to live with the fact that the harder I tried to care and heal things, the more harm I did, and that almost all of that will never be healed or redeemed, and that's my own burden to carry, and no one else even has to care about it, much less appreciate it or feel compassion because of it.
A Friend: This could be stupid but, I think that you know and feel all this now and do feel that you want to apologize, is something. Does that make any sense? Most people go through life and don't give a fuck what they may or may have not done to anyone else. It think it's rare and special that you do. I'm sorry it hurts so much though, I really am.
Me: Even trying to give this much to any of them, Christina or Maya or anyone, is... It's so strong a drive on my part, not to be redeemed (although that would be great), but to be able to communicate somehow that I realize that my best intentions went backwards and than I horribly regret the pain and hurt they suffered because of my inabilities over the years to understand how to make intentions for good into joyous things for the people I loved instead of horrible memories and anger. I hate that, and everything in me wants to use every bit of my energy to undo that. And making myself be still in the face of that, and accept that the best thing I can do may be to just disappear, is... Anguish is the best word I can find. It's why I have wanted to die so often in my life, and more have wanted to go back to before some things and die. I hope and pray someday I will be able to turn my wishes and desires to be good to the people I love and make their lives better will bear more fruit, and I spend as much energy as I can find working toward that, as I have for my whole life, truly, but I understand that that may never be enough.
Me: I suppose that's something, yes.
Me: If I could do nothing else, for those who I have hurt and how hate me for it, I would go back and end my own life before I contacted them. They probably will never care, and I don't blame them, but nothing has been harder for me to live with, throughout my life, than the knowledge that the more I have cared and the harder I have tried, the more I have hurt people without ever meaning to, people who now hate me for it.
Me: I am sure you will proofread it all for me and put it away somewhere safe for whoever wants to see it one day. If anyone ever does.
Me: It's there for anyone who wants or needs it. The very least I could do for all of them.
A Friend: I think you're doing a lot towards what you want to do with your wants and wishes. I don't think you need proofreading at all. I think you just did more for yourself than you could for anyone else.
Me: I want very much for this to be more, more, more about the people I have hurt than about me, or my hopes or dreams or good intentions. It's not about me. It's about them.
A Friend: I know you do. But you need it too. You matter in all of it.
Me: Maybe I do and maybe I don't. I think that it may in fact be the case that at the end of the day, Spock was right. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.
Me: Perhaps I deserved to have been imbued with enough of a childhood to not have hurt people by trying to show caring about them. But that's immaterial. It wasn't, and they have paid for it at least as much as I have. Nothing can change anything that has happened. If none of them ever offer me any redemption, that's just the breaks, and certainly no one owes me a damned thing.
Me: Quite the opposite. I hope a whole lot of promissory notes, and very few hold any I have any right to cash in.
Me: Truthfully, I often feel, and believe I am justified in doing so considering, being dead might be the nicest thing I could do for almost all of them at this point.
A Friend: I can't agree with that honestly
Me: Not out of martyrdom, but out of giving them closure and a sense that I had paid for what they had suffered.
A Friend: For my moment of pure selfishness for the whole week if it came to that fuck them. Entirely all the way around.
Me: And frankly, I have a lot of trouble living with the fact that I've done that damage. No one owes me understanding, or empathy, but frankly, I'd like to have some peace myself someday.
Me: I've been tortured by all this for years, but I can look back now and see a lot that I couldn't before, how some things had solidified around me and how some things I clung to out of sheer terror at letting them go and having nothing, inside myself or outside myself, to rationalize my world with at all. It's horrible, all of it, and I hate and regret it, and have for a long long time. I've just been increasingly broken down to where the fear of facing it all didn't drive me away in terror. Frankly, I have to thank them for forcing me to face it, Christina especially. No matter what it feels like.
Me: And there will not be one word of comment from me on her blog, nor one word of even explanation on my part as a reaction, aside from what I have given you here. I won't send her anything more, post on her blog, or even read in the future. She deserves a place where, if she needs to, she can feel safe from me. I owe her substantially more than that, and if she can find any of it in me or my life, then good; if not, I can at least use whatever energy and will I have now to not make it any worse.
A Friend: i hope there is some kind of peace in this. as much as it hurts to know how bad you're hurting i hope you find some moment of peace and calm.
Me: She was just someone who I thought could see me for who and what I was, through all the fuck-uppedness ad the inability to understand human relations. I hung on to her for the same reason I tried to break down all of my own internal boundaries and fears for her access; because I have always desperately wanted to be able to be the caring, ethical person that is truly at the core of me, and I felt that finally someone had seen that in me and was offering me a hand up toward that. And in losing it again I had a lot stripped away and came to terms with a lot of horridly frightening things, but came back to wanting to find a way out of the life that had formed up around me and into the life I wanted to make from and for and with myself, for everyone around me who I cared about. And I clung to that path out from what has ultimately been the worst prison that I could exist within. And I also know that the knowledge of and sense of inevitability about that prison is a lot of what hurt so many people, when it comes down to it, including the people in my life now, including you. And I am sorry, more sorry than anyone will probably ever really know. I'd do anything to change it all, and to take it all back, even giving up. Giving up anything, or everything.
Me: Hell, having to live with this all, for all of these years, may well be the very sort of payment that they would find satisfying. Death would probably be too good for me. Certainly escape without paying for my crimes, as it were, would probably be just some more selfishness.
A Friend: I don't know about anyone else. I really don't know anything in the grand scheme of things, aside from that I partly understand, I think. Rather, I guess I feel like I do in some ways. I don't want to sound assholish about it, though. It sounds to cliché when I think about it, and I don't want to give you clichés and stupidity because I can't express myself very well. I think you have been paying, for years and years.
Me: But there's been more to pay for as time has gone on, and I am guilty of having allowed that.
Me: I'm not a sociopath, or a psychopath. I probably should have been one, or both, given my origins, but I am not.
A Friend: No, you're not. Something I'm glad for
Me: I wish that dying was enough of a price to pay for it all.
Me: Christina can take whatever she wants from me. She deserves that and infinitely more. So does Maya, for that matter. With Kris, I figure we are probably even, at worst. And with Jen, well, whether she intended to or not, she took more from me than anyone else ever had, or could (and in fact I made sure no one could ever take that much more me again), so I figure at worst that's a draw.
A Friend: I hope terribly badly that I never hurt you like that. Not ever.
Me: I have never wanted anything in my life more than to understand Christina well enough to truly appreciate her in a meaningful way. The only thing I want more is to allow her whatever makes the hurts from her time with me to be better.
Me: Never. The worst you have done is to be afraid, and I cannot condemn you in any way for anything that I as well have reacted to, lived with, that has shaped my life in ways that I often am horrified by.
A Friend: I don't want to be another source of hurt and disappointment. Not ever.
Me: As tired as I sometimes have gotten, as much as I have at times felt like I could never matter enough to change things for you, I could never in my heart, not once, blame you for or be angry at you, honestly angry at YOU, about those things. They're the things we have been talking about, things we live in terror of looking at, and it's perfectly human to try hard to build around them or run away from them or whatever we have to do to make it through another day.
Me: And really, at the end of the day, you and I have loved each other most because we know the other understands those things without them having to be ripped raw from us in front of ourselves or anyone else. I know that.
A Friend: I hope (pray is a better word) that somewhere in all the pain and and hurt and horror that I can at some point be more and do more for you. I don't want you to be going through this kind of pain and everything by yourself
Me: I also know that these things are the reason that I have had a harder and harder time wanting to live, a harder time feeling like it matters what I do and where I point myself, and the weight of all the scar tissue, especially and more than anything from Christina, has slowed me down to the point where I face constant decisions about taking another step, and constant questions about whether it makes a damned bit of difference whether I try or not any more. When this is as far as trying has brought me. That was true when I was with her, too, toward the end, and I hated it then, too, hated that I felt it and that it had hurt her. I knew she had withdrawn, a lot, and beneath the layers of fear that I was some kind of monster I knew why.
Me: You know, I wouldn't think to ask you or anyone else for anything over all of this. You've had it hard enough, and if nothing else I can offer you empathy as someone else who has gone through this sort of shit, because we both know really well that at the end of the day you and I are that much alike. As much as I wish you weren't and could be one of the ones who just hated me instead.
A Friend: You don't have to ask. You really don't, because we're so alike. If I couldn't give you empathy, I'd be a fucking shit and I don't think I could live with myself if I knew I felt like that. Not at all.
Me: I wish you didn't have to know.
Me: And I hope, probably partly selfishly simply because the pain is so great (and who suffers in intense pain without wanting it to stop?), I want to make something better that I made unintentionally worse. If that's all I can ever really do for anyone I've hurt, then at least I would have that much.
Me: I'd never hope for redemption any more. That's almost certainly never coming, from anyone, and there's no reason to think it should be.
A Friend: I wish neither of us knew. If it helps or matters, unlike about 99% of people I've ever known, you have made it better for me.
Me: And Lord knows, I'd have to earn it first, and if I'd known how to do that for all these years, I sure as shit would have.
Me: I'm glad I have. Era says the same. I'm glad that, if things have to be as they are on this world, that it wasn't all worse than a waste, but in fact destructive in some measure or other at *all* times. Although it pains me to know there are people who... People for whom my set of "messed up" has been less messed up than the alternatives. I'd really rather everyone hated me and no one understood, if it came to that.
A Friend: It's not just “your set of messed up” being the alternative for me. The more important thing is that you get it. Not just in an empathetic “because you care” kind of way, but in an actual visceral way. That means far more to me than most anything else you could do. I spent so much of life realizing that nobody gets it and thus, I can't talk about it or feel it around people such that I don't even know how to just *be*, and I don't have that with you. And that matters. Maybe that's really fucked up, but it's the truth.
Me: At least that is something. Whether I can hang onto it or not, for myself, whatever, you know? It could be something to be "proud" of, but I'm stripped down quite a bit past that now. How I feel about myself matters in terms of what dances I do with myself internally. And that has a big impact on others, like it does for everyone. But truthfully, that's not about me. It's about YOU. If it matters to you, if it helps you, then I am glad to provide it, whether it has ever been intentional or specifically consciously offered or not.
Me: No more dances with myself. I know what I believe, and I know my intentions, it's simply always been a case of having so little idea of how to even turn them into concrete thoughts and goals, desires, pathways, anything.
Me: It's not about pride, or even being able to face myself in the mirror any more.
Me: No more Colonel Cathcart. ;)
A Friend: I have this saved. Is there anything you want me to do with it?
Me: I have actually thought maybe I will just post it in my old blog publicly.
Me: Then people she cares about and who care about her can filter it for themselves, and make their own choices on what to do with any of it.
A Friend: Do you think she'll see it?
Me: Whether I think she will or want her to or not is immaterial.
Me: If she comes to it herself, knowing it is there, and it is of any use to her, then it's done more than I had hoped it would.
A Friend: Okay.