This is for anyone to read. Believe it or not, it is my business.
I'm sure this'll piss off a few people and that's not exactly what I wrote this for, but at least it's written. As for whether or not this is my business, it is. And you'll see why if you continue reading.
Erik use to be a seriously cool cat who had quite a bit of friends who loved him dearly. He had his faults, yes, but there were good things about him as a person. He was a cute, very skinny, italian, humbly-self-described "slut" who knew who he was and what he stood for and that really wanted to stop doing things with his friends but found me as an exception that he didn't want to even try to explain. Now he's rather dull, has gone against his own supposedly "strongly felt" words, and he's allowed himself to embark on a journey that's close to "date rape" [as a few have called it], and if he really decides to go against all his morals, it could possibly lead to an STD and/or AIDS. This is all in theory of if he continues. Sure that'll please him in a complex, partially-understandable way and he'll do exactly as he's said--he'll "fuck everyone he thinks deserves it." It's funny how he would've been the carrier though. He'd have it--he'd deserve it. And I'm sure he would love to throw everything he's done in my face. The possible disappointment to him is that it doesn't exactly phase me.
But I'd much rather move on to what is important. I'm no longer hiding the truth. Those who wish to know exactly what went on during the past three years can ask and this time, I'll actually answer. It was a point in time that will never be had again. Events that took place then will never happen again if I have anything to say about it.
I'd feel really badly for all of this, I really would. However, though he's pitiful, he's undeserving of pity. He's done this to himself. I anticipated his recklessness and even mentioned it to a friend of ours in a few rants between writing up chemistry labs with him online. I wasn't rambling for nothing when I kept repeating, "He'll see. He's fucked, he'll be completely fucked." I was right. He ended up how I expected and dreaded him to be. Do I give myself kudos for that? Not at all. It makes me sick to know what he’s doing. I just hope he learns. And if he doesn't, because he's stubborn, haha, oh well. “He's fucked.”
It's a strange feeling for me to accept. The spite, hate, love, and adoration. They're a fucked up mix, but it all applies to him. I do love him. I really do. I've pretty much lost all respect for him, and I no longer would enjoy his company if he even wanted mine. I can't say I like him as a person at all, and I know he deserves punishment for everything. That'd be hate and spite.
But I still love him. I still am amused by his many antics and rants, I still get excited if I hear him speaking or smell his very, very distinctive scent--I still watch with amazement when I hear him talk about something he loves to other people. The way he himself gets excited and smiles genuinely--he's so beautiful and it’s a disappointment to many that such an amazing creature, someone that is fucking brilliant when he wants to be and can be such a gentleman behind closed doors, someone that can hold my attention and wrap me around their finger so easily, unlike so many people, can be such a horror of a human being.
I still smile when I remember all the things he's said to me while wrapped up together in bed, all the things he's done to me, whether tenderly or roughly, and all the attention and affection he’s showed me while in privacy, only for our eyes and ears. I would never believe in a million years that he ever loved me, but I know part of him cared enough to follow me around school, wave in front of my face and call my name repeatedly because he desired my attention, and tell me things about himself he wouldn't tell others and hadn't. There are acts and split-second emotions felt that can’t be taken away with an immature comparison of me to a pig. If Erik were to read this, I’d tell him “Sorry.” that his scheme of trying to make me seem like a “love-sick cunt, that deserves everything he’s done” is failing quite miserably. Oh, I love him. I use to know why, but now I don’t. This makes me life a lot easier. It seems now all he needs to do is get over me if he quite possibly regretted everything we’ve done. Which is sort of amusing in a rather disgusting way, seeing as he might think kissing drunks seems a lot better than spending intimate acts and playful times with someone who truly does care, has proved that, and has taken all his shit for years. Even if I was just a rag doll he used for fun--I was the perfect partner and undeserving of all the pain he purposely inflicted upon me. Wouldn’t you love a toy you could bend at your will if you so desired to do so?
At least everything I did to and for him was out of love. Pure. Fucking. Love. I wouldn’t treat anyone else the way I treated him. I only ever had one intention and that was to make him happy and satiated. I would never have allowed anyone to do to me as he’d done. There was an incredible amount of trust between the two of us.
I will never regret letting myself receive any of his kisses or touches. Every moment he'd given me was never taken for granted and was cherished. He knew that. I constantly told him how much I cared, how much I love him, how much I want, desire, need him and it all contributed to the release in every act. I can recall every time he held me, every time he snuggled to me, every time he made work of my bare skin with his lips, tongue, teeth and hands, every beautiful, deeply intimate act done between us. And I will never forget them, nor will I regret them.
A lot had happened on various occasions and both of us held our tongues and denied any rumours, unlike he did in the past with other girls. One night when I was talking to him, I was ranting about how I hated that Zach, or Mike, would suggest something had happened between Erik and I and it bothered me that anyone would ever figure out what would really go on between us. What Erik and I did was for, as I said before, our eyes and ears only. He responded with, "Does it really matter what they think happens? We know. They don't need to know." Quothe him. It's funny he said that, in a strange way…
And most of what people suggested happened was very true. Wonder why Erik had a hickey on his neck in late January? Wonder why I had a bite mark on the inside of my leg in sophomore year? Wonder why or how it was possible for us to say horrible things to each other and fight all the time? Most was covered up, but we kept our mouths shut. Those that knew us suspected and assumed their accusations to be true would nod in remembrance of different things that had happened between he and I that could be contributed as proof of what was going on.
I could name these people, but I won’t. They know who they are.
This originally started of with me just thinking, “Wow, this is really fucking sad and sort of disgusting.” about the way he’s been behaving since February vacation. But I’ve decided I’d rather people know the truth. They knew the truth about every other girl he’d been with, right? Just because his and my “relationship” lasted for longer than could be imaginable have been doesn’t mean anything special, right? I’m not so sure. Decide for yourself. There were three years.
Erik use to be a seriously cool cat who had quite a bit of friends who loved him dearly. He had his faults, yes, but there were good things about him as a person. He was a cute, very skinny, italian, humbly-self-described "slut" who knew who he was and what he stood for and that really wanted to stop doing things with his friends but found me as an exception that he didn't want to even try to explain. Now he's rather dull, has gone against his own supposedly "strongly felt" words, and he's allowed himself to embark on a journey that's close to "date rape" [as a few have called it], and if he really decides to go against all his morals, it could possibly lead to an STD and/or AIDS. This is all in theory of if he continues. Sure that'll please him in a complex, partially-understandable way and he'll do exactly as he's said--he'll "fuck everyone he thinks deserves it." It's funny how he would've been the carrier though. He'd have it--he'd deserve it. And I'm sure he would love to throw everything he's done in my face. The possible disappointment to him is that it doesn't exactly phase me.
But I'd much rather move on to what is important. I'm no longer hiding the truth. Those who wish to know exactly what went on during the past three years can ask and this time, I'll actually answer. It was a point in time that will never be had again. Events that took place then will never happen again if I have anything to say about it.
I'd feel really badly for all of this, I really would. However, though he's pitiful, he's undeserving of pity. He's done this to himself. I anticipated his recklessness and even mentioned it to a friend of ours in a few rants between writing up chemistry labs with him online. I wasn't rambling for nothing when I kept repeating, "He'll see. He's fucked, he'll be completely fucked." I was right. He ended up how I expected and dreaded him to be. Do I give myself kudos for that? Not at all. It makes me sick to know what he’s doing. I just hope he learns. And if he doesn't, because he's stubborn, haha, oh well. “He's fucked.”
It's a strange feeling for me to accept. The spite, hate, love, and adoration. They're a fucked up mix, but it all applies to him. I do love him. I really do. I've pretty much lost all respect for him, and I no longer would enjoy his company if he even wanted mine. I can't say I like him as a person at all, and I know he deserves punishment for everything. That'd be hate and spite.
But I still love him. I still am amused by his many antics and rants, I still get excited if I hear him speaking or smell his very, very distinctive scent--I still watch with amazement when I hear him talk about something he loves to other people. The way he himself gets excited and smiles genuinely--he's so beautiful and it’s a disappointment to many that such an amazing creature, someone that is fucking brilliant when he wants to be and can be such a gentleman behind closed doors, someone that can hold my attention and wrap me around their finger so easily, unlike so many people, can be such a horror of a human being.
I still smile when I remember all the things he's said to me while wrapped up together in bed, all the things he's done to me, whether tenderly or roughly, and all the attention and affection he’s showed me while in privacy, only for our eyes and ears. I would never believe in a million years that he ever loved me, but I know part of him cared enough to follow me around school, wave in front of my face and call my name repeatedly because he desired my attention, and tell me things about himself he wouldn't tell others and hadn't. There are acts and split-second emotions felt that can’t be taken away with an immature comparison of me to a pig. If Erik were to read this, I’d tell him “Sorry.” that his scheme of trying to make me seem like a “love-sick cunt, that deserves everything he’s done” is failing quite miserably. Oh, I love him. I use to know why, but now I don’t. This makes me life a lot easier. It seems now all he needs to do is get over me if he quite possibly regretted everything we’ve done. Which is sort of amusing in a rather disgusting way, seeing as he might think kissing drunks seems a lot better than spending intimate acts and playful times with someone who truly does care, has proved that, and has taken all his shit for years. Even if I was just a rag doll he used for fun--I was the perfect partner and undeserving of all the pain he purposely inflicted upon me. Wouldn’t you love a toy you could bend at your will if you so desired to do so?
At least everything I did to and for him was out of love. Pure. Fucking. Love. I wouldn’t treat anyone else the way I treated him. I only ever had one intention and that was to make him happy and satiated. I would never have allowed anyone to do to me as he’d done. There was an incredible amount of trust between the two of us.
I will never regret letting myself receive any of his kisses or touches. Every moment he'd given me was never taken for granted and was cherished. He knew that. I constantly told him how much I cared, how much I love him, how much I want, desire, need him and it all contributed to the release in every act. I can recall every time he held me, every time he snuggled to me, every time he made work of my bare skin with his lips, tongue, teeth and hands, every beautiful, deeply intimate act done between us. And I will never forget them, nor will I regret them.
A lot had happened on various occasions and both of us held our tongues and denied any rumours, unlike he did in the past with other girls. One night when I was talking to him, I was ranting about how I hated that Zach, or Mike, would suggest something had happened between Erik and I and it bothered me that anyone would ever figure out what would really go on between us. What Erik and I did was for, as I said before, our eyes and ears only. He responded with, "Does it really matter what they think happens? We know. They don't need to know." Quothe him. It's funny he said that, in a strange way…
And most of what people suggested happened was very true. Wonder why Erik had a hickey on his neck in late January? Wonder why I had a bite mark on the inside of my leg in sophomore year? Wonder why or how it was possible for us to say horrible things to each other and fight all the time? Most was covered up, but we kept our mouths shut. Those that knew us suspected and assumed their accusations to be true would nod in remembrance of different things that had happened between he and I that could be contributed as proof of what was going on.
I could name these people, but I won’t. They know who they are.
This originally started of with me just thinking, “Wow, this is really fucking sad and sort of disgusting.” about the way he’s been behaving since February vacation. But I’ve decided I’d rather people know the truth. They knew the truth about every other girl he’d been with, right? Just because his and my “relationship” lasted for longer than could be imaginable have been doesn’t mean anything special, right? I’m not so sure. Decide for yourself. There were three years.