With
regard to your sardonic and entirely unnecessary response to my tumblr
question (aside from proving, yet again, that you understand perfectly
well what I meant - that I was confused by seeing a new user name +
unfamiliar user background on my tumblr and had to read through a bunch
of postings before I found one from days ago that I identified as yours -
but that you chose to turn into a public scene so you could yet again
play the victim by taking a sentence and manipulating it to fit your
narrative).
You asked before what your narrative is. Well, here it is: Lizzie is a
terrific and incredible and amazing person who cannot possibly be
capable of hurting other people. If you dare to mention how she hurt you
in the past, her voice will become falsely-hysterical like a two year
old who has been told they cannot eat any more candy and she will throw
violent, hurtful remarks at you in public venues like LiveJournal and
Tumblr to further skew others' opinions of you, to isolate you from
those who are more than willing to believe her lies masked as truth
because she is showering them with attention while you are sobbing on
your bed and making sure no one has found your suicide stash yet and you
are not capable of playing "I win, you lose" games with Internet
friends you've ignored for too long now, and she will also absolutely
refuse to have an adult conversation about it, cutting you out of her
life abruptly and with words that remain burned on your brain forever.
The quintessential example: "falling in love" with me when I told you
directly and clearly not to voluntarily become a part of my life if you
were just going to leave me, begged you not to even risk the possibility
of doing this to me while my father was dying of terminal cancer but to
just stay away if there was even a small chance you'd abandon me in my
time of overwhelming loss, only to have you break up with me several
days after kissing me goodbye at the airport, dumping me as casually as a
garbage bag and "feeling nothing" about either losing me or about how
you just contributed to destroying the world of a girl whose world was
already falling apart, and who would suffer further injustice by having
you later claim that you were using me - a girl in the middle of
losing her fucking father - to see new york city, or for sex, or for
friendship, all of which you will later rescind yet again at a later
point with a different excuse or pretend that those reasons you gave
were lies to protect yourself. As though *you* were the one in desperate
need of protection.
But you've claimed innocence about why Ashley - such a strong support
for me for over two years - unfriended me several weeks later after
sending a text she never would have thought to send me on her own.
You've never explained the abrupt unfriending and subsequent friending
of crystalwanda to your "secret" journal. You refuse to tell me if you
and Ari are in a relationship. Why is that? Have you done to her just
what you did to me - lusted after her, felt crazed over her, told me you
were in love with her ... until she fell in love with you, too, and
actusally wanted a NORMAL relationship? You know, the kind that defines
you as her girlfriend and doesn't include weeks-long absences from her
life? Did you draw her in just to spit her out, too? Did you destroy her
relationship with her girlfriend out of jealousy or spite or sheer
malice, like you did when Andrew was finally moving on and you begged
him to be with you again - "just to see if [you] could" - and shattered
his heart into a million pieces by breaking up with him less than an
hour after he dumped his current girlfriend for you? When you knew in
advance that you were lying for the sole purpose of ruining any
happiness he'd found without you, even after you ruined him to the point
where I doubt he will ever be the same?
And why won't you tell me about Are? Or Thomasina? Or any other girl
you're sleeping with? Do you think I am still abiding by your
middle-school approach to "love"? Do you think you have any power over
me or that you will ever have such power again? Is THAT why you think it
upsets me when you don't talk about Ari&company?
If so, you've got the narrative wrong this time. I am not talking to you
because I live in some fantasyland where this will go on and on and we
will be "lovers from afar. I don't think you give a shit about me that
is in any sense separate from your own selfish and self-centered agenda.
I am talking to you because: first, I like the power *I* feel in
knowing I can get you off. I like the fact that you were supposed to
come here, more sexually experienced and less shy than before, and since
I am not in love with you or thinking this is in any way a long-term
anything, knowing that I wouldn't be so soothing about going slow with
regard to clitoral orgasms or oral sex or playing games. No, if I had
known we were having basically what amounted to a prolonged one-night
stand last year, I would not have stopped when you asked, when I knew
you were on the verge of an intense clitoral orgasm. I would have kept
going, all weekend if I'd had to, until you'd experienced that with me
for the first time. And then I would have done it again and again and
again. So I guess I am doing this because it turns me on too - even
though I know there's no way in hell I'd ever let my guard down enough
with you to have an orgasm of any kind (but I know it turns you on to
think I would - really, it just makes me sad to realize how I could
never, ever trust you like that and how I regret being so naïve last
year in believing that maybe one day you could be the person I'd trust
enough to overcome the past 10 years of having sex while wearing a
bullet-proof psychological guard rail), I'd still have a lot of fun by
myself later. Secondly, I was traumatized by my dad's death, among other
things. I don't go out a lot; I hardly go out at all. So talking to
people on the phone for hours is a good way not to feel isolated.
Thirdly, you're fun. And funny. And you tell me lies I want to hear. I
don't want to hear them from you, per say, but hearing them at all is
nice just the same. Don't you remember how I said that if you and Ari
were exclusive and you didn't speak with her at length about this first,
I wouldn't even consider doing anything to jeopardize your
relationship? When I was in love with you, if you had a girlfriend, I
wouldn't have cared because like I said to Rob, love is a drug that
you'll selfishly do anything for when you're actively addicted. But I'm
not in love with you anymore. You take far too much and give far too
little. Just - why the fuck did you do it again with Ari? It's like that
Marge Piercy poem, where she writes at the end, "if she is your whole
world, how quickly the sun sets now." The part about the cat hunting
mice as trophies. That's you. You enjoy the hunt. You love the kill.
You're proud of your trophies. But do you even comprehend what kind of
destruction you've wreaked on people's lives in order to "win" those
trophies?
And here's the thing: the narrative is clear, has been for a long time.
But if I were writing a story from your perspective, the emotions behind
the narrative are what I wouldn't be able to write. Are you genuinely a
narcissistic borderline personality and does that explain it? I think
you do carry overlapping traits of those two PDs, given the way you
selectively present yourself and information about yourself and
especially information about others who have harmed you. The scariest
part about your psychopathology has never been the borderline part. It's
the narcissism. The world is your personal Cartier store, and you
discard people like bracelets the second you discover that they are
human, that they are flawed, that they want to be touching to your real
skin and not just dangling as accessories to the character you happen to
be playing at a given point in time.
I told you I didn't want any drama if you were coming here. Do I want to
understand why you did what you did to me? Yeah. Yeah, I fucking do. I
still do. Because no one has been so cruel, so narcissistic and
self-centered, so icy-cold with indifference that they left this precise
kind of frozen burn on my skin. When I spoke to Christina - yes, THAT
Christina - a few weeks ago, since she'd just found out about my dad's
death 6 months ago, she was horrified by what you did and how you
behaved, especially since you know first-hand the primary trauma of
losing a parent. I told her she prepared me quite well for such
overwhelming abandonment (ha. ha.), and she laughed.
But she was dead serious when she said: "... except we were in a 6 month
relationship and your dad wasn't dying. And I couldn't have promised
you I'd be with you at least until after he died because, remember, I'd
never been with a girl before." Interestingly, she hasn't been with one
since, a few drunk/drugged flings but only boyfriends and when I asked
why, she said stuff like "too emotional" and "too overwhelming, loving
another girl" and that sex was "too good." I didn't understand how it
could be too good and asked her. She got all typically superior and was
like "oh, you still never have? That's sad. Well ... it's kind of like
you're in this rocketship you don't ever want to stop, not even when you
go into these galaxies you never knew existed, like every piece of love
and pleasure you've carry with you through your life is being rubbed
and sucked out of you ... and since I know I'm going to end up getting
married one day [to a guy] I wish I didn't know that only loving
another girl could be so ... [note: since she, miss poet extraordinare,
had no adjective to describe it I'm not going to add my own] so I didn't
want to risk throwing my life away [for her parents' sake, I guess?]
for that feeling." My reaction was kind of like: great, I'm apparently a
magnet for girls who don't want to love all the way. And then she said
how she still thinks of me when she masturbates and it got kind of
sexual and weird because I know we'd both be using each other, for
different reasons, but I can't imagine not falling in love with her
again if it happened and accepting the reality that I was just her "fix"
of a drug she stopped doing four years ago, although I suspect she
wouldn't feel what she felt before now that she doesn't love me anymore,
but I don't know because while I've loved that deeply I have never
fully given all of myself to another person, as she smugly pointed out
several times.
That's the biggest difference between you and Christina: I knew her, I
held her heart in my hands with her permission, and I loved her. I don't
know the "real" you or which version of you that you decide to present
to the world and to me is the "real" one, you allowed me to hold what I
thought was your heart but was actually (aptly enough) more like your
liver - the organ that processes mixtures of chemicals and pummels them
into toxic bile - and I never had the chance to love you because I never
knew you. I only loved an idea, a hologram. I was never permitted to
know you. I'm still not. And if it took me this long to finally
understand slightly why Christina suddenly returned to CA and broke up
with me 2 days after we had this insanely amazingly beautiful time
together in NY, I don't know if I will ever understand why you did what
you did to me.
That's why I wrote you that e-mail after our phone sex night and why I
became so insistent upon understanding wtf you're doing with me right
now, whether anyone will get hurt because of it in your "real life," and
whether it's going to end like it did last time, with you crucifying me
in public just for caring about you and (last time, at least) for
seeming to be absolutely incapable of understanding why you got involved
at all despite knowing that I was going through the most desperate and
terrifying and unbearably painful event in my life, the thing I'd always
feared so much I couldn't even read others' fictional accounts of it or
hear songs about it: losing my father .
And even though I don't think I will ever permit myself to love another
person again in a non-humanitarian sense of the word, I do know how I
will react to a reprise of last time. Because I'm like one of Pavlov's
dogs when it relates to abandonment: it's deeply personal and deeply
hurtful - and also deeply shameful when it follows lies I had to
convince myself to believe in the first place to permit it to happen.
Does THAT answer your fucking tumblr question now?
Are you ready to have a real conversation with me or are you just
planning on enticing me with more of your made-up bullshit? If it's the
latter, I need to know, because ticket prices to Israel increase daily,
because I'm going to need to fast-taper my meds, and becasuse - if
Israel is unaffordable - I have a REAL friend, one without your
deceptions and your junior high mentality about dating and a history of
staying by my side like someone who actually cares about me beyond their
own egotistical blinders and who has never, ever inflicted damage upon
me and whose words I accept as truth because she's never repeatedly lied
to me depending on her mood and/or motivations, who wants to come to NY
when I was supposed to be either here or in Rehoboth Beach w/ you.
My initial impulse when she brought it up (she gets a break from work
too - she teaches ice skating to both regular kids and kids w/ potential
to go pro in Canada, after retiring from the sport herself at 18) was
to tell you not to come. But you already had tickets and plans and I
knew there would be no risk of falling in love with you, whereas I am
afraid I might fall for Heather - and like I said above: I'm not going
to allow myself to feel that kind of pure love that exists between two
people who hold out their souls to each other and accept the whole of
one another. Your safety exists in the fact that you are incapable of
holding out your soul in its true and pure and honest form, so the idea
of sleeping with her and having a week-long courtship with her scares me
in a way it never could with you, not after everything you've already
done to me and not with the limitations I can gladly accept with regard
to becoming involved with you. You're a distraction and she's the real
deal and I already lost all of my chips the last time I took bets on the
real deal.
The sooner you respond, the better. And not via Facebook or Tumblr or
LiveJournal or those toys little kids use as weapons to tear others down
without having to directly experience any of the irreparable harm
they've done by lashing out so violently. I pray that your sarcastic
"mean girl" laughter at some future ex's expense doesn't end up on
Dateline someday as another example of someone bullied into suicide
because that's what you were like after you broke up with me. While my
dad was dying. While I was spending my last days ever with my younger
sister before being barred from her life unexpectedly and without any
solid reason. While I made a choice I thought would enhance my ability
to recover but only further diminished it.
If not for you, I could have had even more days with my father and my
sister. Think about that long and hard when you respond, because one day
others may be blaming you for taking away their potential last days
with me.
Call me to talk about this. Twice, I've written everything I wanted to
ask you for so long and you've ignored me once, even hung up the phone
on me although I explicitly expressed to you that these truths did not
diminish the my acceptance of - and even enjoyment of - being your
friend. That, in being YOUR friend, I have admitted my own painful
truths to you about that time and have long since taken responsibility
for the way I lashed back, the way I tried to hurt you in the hope you'd
understand a fraction of how it felt - only without, you know, saying
those words as your dying father half-listened from the kitchen and was
probably wounded to the core seeing his daughter hysterically sobbing
over a 17 year old fling while the only person who loved her
unconditionally for 27 years labored despite the ever-increasing pain as
his cancer spread to the rest of his body, to cook her some pasta. Will
you be equally as honest?
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry |
