Elizabeth A. <c0000000@gmail.com>

You are 18 going on 14.

Kat <k00000000@gmail.com>Sat, Mar 12, 2011 at 1:21 PM
Reply-To: k000000000@gmail.com
To: Lizzie Aldrich <c0000000@gmail.com>
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?
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