Dear...

Dear Perlilly, I'm fuming today - I can't believe you've done this to me. I can't believe after everything - after wanting me, after taking me back, after letting me declare my love for you, after asking me about DeGraw's 'overrated' ("is that how I feel?"), after those poems we wrote each other, after the sweet things we said, after we talked about holidays together, after we made plans and made it obvious we wanted each other, after everything had fallen into place, after everything had gotten good again, and we were ready for fun and happiness and loving - that you then went and said, "it's not going to work" - out of nowhere, with no real basis, no lead-up, nothing. "It's not going to work" - but why? Because...what did you say? Because you said you were too young, because you thought our differing beliefs would be a problem, because I once mentioned something about a barefoot wedding (did I even say that?) and that taking my kids to India would be good for them? I mean, what kind of horseshit is that! I mean, why didn't we even talk about it!? What a load of fucking crap. Too young? You're no younger than I, in so many ways. Kids? Pressure? What pressure? When did I ever say that I wanted that NOW? Barefoot wedding? India? Bullshit! If you'd only just asked me then we could have sorted it out - but you didn't even bring yourself to talk to me; you just made this stupid decision ALL ON YOUR OWN, and went ahead with it, without even thinking or realising what you were doing. It's ridiculous. What a crock. And now I'm hurting and devastated and once again my future happiness has gone - and for no fucking reason whatsoever, and I hate you for it. (I don't really - but this is me venting, and I'm allowed a little drama). We could have been so good - we could have had something real - and now I've got to suffer because of your bullshit, because of your misunderstandings, because you got scared and couldn't find a way and now you'll go running to someone else - and I'm supposed to be the commitment-phobe! Ha! So go and find some other guy - some drunk young thang that can trawl around after you and not never mention reincarnation or hypnosis 'cos he's too shallow and thick to think of it (okay, you hang around with some real smart people, and could easily bag some Oxford professor, I know) - but will you ever find the love that I offered you? Will you ever find something as good and powerful and true? I doubt it - and probably that's why you had to go, because you knew that it was real, and that it was love - same as I did - and that's a little bit much to take. But maybe I should be blaming myself here - maybe if I'd played it cool...maybe if I hadn't freaked after Christmas - when you were waxing so lyrical about us, about how we'd worked so well together, when you were telling me over and over that you loved me - God, I wish it was those days again! Why did I make such a mistake? Why did I get so turned around in my head? Why did I go to India and get all lost in spiritual thoughts and shit again? Why couldn't I just be normal!? And I came back and thought and thought - and thought you weren't spiritual enough for me (but really it was the pressure of responsibility that done me in) - and now you've gone and done the same, but in reverse (ie, me too spiritual for you) - and what a crock of shit that all is anyway! As if I'm spiritual! As if there's anything in my bones that resembles even the slightest bit of spirituality, beyond a few kooky beliefs, an ability to heal, and a history of meditation and sadhu-like wandering that is so, so in the past. And why are you so afraid of that stuff anyway? Jesus, what kind of a sheltered life have you lead? You'd think that people would be curious - but not you, no, you just get furious instead - and in a billion conversations I've never had a reaction like that. Slightly mental, in my opinion, but there you go - and it didn't stop me loving and wanting and admiring you anyway, because, like I've said a dozen times, it all comes down to what's inside, and what's inside you is so pure and good compared to what's inside me and what I've been; I mean, I had it rough, and I was bad - you don't even know how bad - and if anything all spirituality did was save me and bring me somewhere close to where you - to where a normal person - should be. It's still not easy being good, though - and you don't have a naughty bone in your body (even if you can be quite wicked sometimes). So why can't we just forget all that? And why did we ever bring it up in the first place? Like I said: who gives a flying fuck? I believe in God - you don't; who cares? I believe in life after death - you don't; it doesn't make one blind bit of difference to ANYTHING. And even now I'm just going around in circles with this; let's forget it; let's never mention it again - let me never mention it to anyone again, ever, unless they ask me. These things should leak out naturally, not be forced or distributed willy nilly; I've been guilty and wrong in the past, I realise that now; I just wanted to be interesting to others, I guess, and this is sort of 'my thing'; it sets me apart; it makes me different; it's something a lot of others haven't got; it's an ego thing. I want it to die now...I sort of want to die too. And, yes, that is just drama - just words that come into my head - but I suppose it must be somewhat indicative of how lost and helpless I feel...my woman has gone - my lovely woman love has gone - and it's all wrong, and it shouldn't be, and there's nothing I can do about it except cling on to sanity for dear life and hope and wait and, in the meantime, drown, in suffering - and deservedly so, because this is exact role reversal of what I done and I just have to suck it up. But will you come back? Will you come back? That's the question. Or will you move on, and leave me desolate and heartbroken, and thinking only of what could have been had I perhaps kept my mouth shut once or twice and not been such a dickhead when presented with love? God, I'm sorry; I really am. If only we could make it better; I just can't accept that it's over (lol); I can't. It's four days now - it's been four of the most horrible days of my life. Every fibre in my being wants to win you back - but I stop myself because I know it won't work; you don't want it; you don't care. You've got your friends, you've got your work; you can shop; when's the time gonna come for you to feel the sadness and the horror of what you've done, the stirring of love that will lead you back to me? You've got your booze, too - your distractions will save you, when they couldn't save me, and time will pass and soon you'll forget and move on and...you're better at that than me. You left Lee behind so easily for me - fuck! You told me you could see yourself being with me for a long time! You asked me less than two weeks ago, "do you think it can be like it was at Christmas?" You called me darling and sweetheart and said what a lucky girl you were to have me - and then you threw me away, with barely a passing thought - except you cried your bucketloads of tears, and didn't that tell you something? That this is a mistake; that there should be something else you were doing; a better way; that we weren't done. For fuck's sake, we were only getting started! All I can do is shake my head and cry: it's so preposterous - and why can't I just distract? This isn't helping me at all; I'm off back to work.

NB: This is just a rant; never meant to be read by her, never intended to be posted off...