imwithjonas's Diaryland Diary

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A Once Fond Farewell

A Once Fond Farewell

leaf by leaf and
page by page
throw this book away
all the sadness
all the rage
throw this book away
rip out the binding and
tear the glue
and all of the grief
we never even knew
we had it
all along

now it's...
smoke

the things
we've written
in it
never really happened
all the things
we've written
in it
never really happened

and all of the people
come and gone
never really lived
and all the people come
have gone
no one
to forgive

smoke

we will
not write a new one
there will
not be a new one
another one
another one

here's an evening
dark with shame
(throw it on the fire)
here's the time
I took the blame
(throw it on the fire)

here is the time
that we didn't speak,
it seemed for years and years and
here's the secret
no one will ever know
the reasons for the tears

they are...
smoke

smoke
smoke

we will
not write a new one
there will
not be a new one
another one
another one

where do all
the secrets live?
they travel in the air
you can smell them
when they burn
they travel

those who say
the past is not dead, can
stop and smell the smoke
you keep saying
the past is not dead, well,
stop and smell the smoke
you keep on saying
the past is not even past, and
you keep saying

we are...
smoke

smoke
smoke

- Ben Folds Five, "Smoke"

I guess that's as close as I'll ever get to closure. Anyway, if you happened to get here from the Shouted Whispers archives, you might want to bookmark the site. I've officially worn out my welcome, I suppose. I'd recommend clicking the "home" link at the top of the page. Then you won't be linked to this specific entry, but to the most recent entry on the site.

Now, I have a short confession to make. In the course of mine and Pat's badly ended friendship, I can only think of one rule I broke. I didn't even realize I was breaking a rule by doing it. See, I wrote about him on this site all the time. Now, he can look back and say, "You sound like a crazy stalker." I should have realized that talking about such a wonderful friendship was bad. Really. So that's Cardinal Rule of Loving Pat No. 1, broken.

When he decided our friendship was over, I broke the Second Rule. I told anyone and everyone who would listen. I cried on the shoulders of a good dozen people. This is another one I technically know is a no-no. I had all his complaints about his ex-boyfriend to lay out these rules for me. I just didn't pay good enough attention, I suppose. CRLP No. 2, out the window.

Of all the Rules I've broken, the Third is probably the most "unforgivable" in Pat's eyes. I was desperate to have some kind of understanding of what had happened. Pat never gave me anything resembling a real reason. I had to get a grip on this somehow, or I would just go nuts and start killing people. I came to the only logical conclusion. I needed to talk to someone with the same (By which I mean eerily similar. Though the nature of our relationships was different, the result was pretty much the same.) experience. It's not like Pat hasn't established a pattern of crushing people for no good reason. It was pretty simple really. I had to talk to Chris.

And I did. I wrote one of my rambling, soul-baring emails. He wrote me back. Between the wonders of the internet and the magic of cellular phone service, I've made a new friend and figured out how to deal with the sudden dissolution of the (formerly) driving force in my life. And of course that completely shattered CRLP No. 3.

And now I'm breaking the final rule I can think of. See, by writing about all this on my site, I'm being "passive aggressive." Pat hates that. Truly. But I'm tired of all his psychological bullshit. I'm fucking sick of fighting emotion with rationale just because Pat thinks it's the proper way to live. I guess that's how he justifies using people until he doesn't have any specific need for them and then dropping them like a ton of bricks. Whatever. He's not bad at being passive aggressive himself. I mean, he never said our friendship was over. He said we still had a chance. It was fucking bullshit, but still, he said it. The fact that he didn't mean it just means that I have to be the one to say it's over. He's blameless. As usual. Anyway, I guess I've broken the Final Rule.

And now, Pat, if you bothered reading down this far, I'll grant your wish. It's over. I'm through. I'm not going to sit here waiting for the few and far between moments when you decide to be pleasant. I'm not going to do everything I can to satisfy whatever terms you dream up for our continued relationship. I'm not going to be purposefully bitchy, and I'm not going to completely ignore you. But I guess we aren't friends anymore. I kind of wonder if we ever were. I have no doubt as to my own feelings, but you've completely shocked me. I never knew you had such a capacity for being an unfeeling, remote bastard. If I didn't know you were capable of this, then I don't know that you ever even liked me. That's a great fucking blow to my self-esteem. Thanks.

That being said, I still love the fucking asshole deep down. Even if he didn't ever mean it, he seemed like a wonderful person and a great friend. For my part, I wish things hadn't ended this way. But that wasn't my choice.

Remarkably, I feel much less bitter now. Pat told me that I sound like a complete bitch in my journal. Maybe I do. Maybe that's how I keep from being a bitch in reality. Of course, he says I'm a bitch then, too. But most people disagree.

I'm not inclined to put much stock in his opinions anymore.

8:35 a.m. - September 01, 2004

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