Honesty will Tear up what's Already Infected

Shit.

Long story from tonight. Long, long story involving one sober, anxious and tearful Hyde and one very drunk Narc.

The end of the story... he's passed out in his bed; I'm fretting and frozen in my own place in front of my computer.

I wrote him this letter. My mouse hovered over the "send" button for a good ten minutes as I stared blankly at the screen. I couldn't do it. I couldn't send it. I'm an asshole and I'm weak. But here's the letter I wrote.

FUCK! Why can't I send it???

And I was having a good day...

I want to crawl into a cave and go to sleep until Spring.

____________________

Narc,

It's about 3:00 am and I can't sleep. I don't know what tonight was about or what was on your mind when you initally called me, or why you kept saying you were on your way here when you weren't. Okay... so you were drunk. I understand and I'm not blaming you for that (as that would be hypocritical of me). I know I'm not perfect either. In fact, I'm an emotional mess a lot of the time. So I'm not saying I've never done anything wrong here. But even so... The bottom line? After our interaction tonight and reflecting on everything... I feel like garbage.

I never want to say these things. I think them and feel them and they burn in me and change me, but I never ever say them. So, why now? Maybe it's because it's late and I'm exhausted, maybe it's because I'm sober and anxious, maybe it's because the pain is fresh, but whatever the reason, here's what I need to say:

I used to think that you cared about me, at least a little... at least in some way, on some terms. But over the past month, I've had to reevaluate. The affirmations have gone from few and far between to virtually none. And the insults and invalidation have increased. You used to say nice things to me once in a while. I lived for those moments. Now there's just silence from you, and even worse (when you're drunk)-- name calling. You used to get drunk and be effusively affectionate. I loved those occasions more than you know. I let myself believe in them. Now when you're drunk, you have less and less qualms about being mean. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, I'd be more than happy to cite some examples for you. I just don't feel like getting into that here. I mean, what's the point?)

It escalated tonight.
"Say something nice to me, please," I said to you.
"Hyde, I'm in love with you and I want you... to come feel me," you said.
That made me very sad. Very, very sad. You were reading me drunk and clumsily trying to push my buttons.
"You're not in love with me," I answered. "But it was nice of you to say that. So, thanks."

I thanked you for that? I don't know which of us is crazier.

Look-- I understand that I'm not what you want. You've made that clear. I'm not WHO you want. Maybe I disappoint you or even disgust you. Maybe you resent me or even hate me. I don't know... But I still have feelings. And I have to tell you, it fucking hurts. I'm still a person, and a sensitive person at that. One who is trying to deal with an insane push/pull from you. Constant rejection coupled with need.

We've been tied up with each other one way or another for a year and a half! It's not nothing. You can say we're not in a "relationship," and you can tell yourself in your head that you've cleared yourself-- you've TOLD me it's not a relationship, so all is well and fine. Ok... You're right. We're not in a "relationship." But that's emotional semantics. EMOTIONAL-SEMANTICS. Think about it... It's a bullshit concept. Emotions are emotions. They are illogical and transcend language. This is still something (albeit undefined) and it's still in my head and it's still in my heart and you're still in my life. And you've been there for quite some time in a pretty major way. Recently I've been feeling more and more worthless. The bottom of the barrel. Negated. Nothingness. This has been fucking with my head for a long time.

After we hung up tonight, I had so much anxiety. I still do. I couldn't breathe and couldn't cry. Just anxiety. Fuck. I'll never get to sleep. So, I called you back a million times. ( I guess you had gone to bed and shut your phone... or you were still awake and intentionally ignored me. I tried, but couldn't guess which). I decided I was willing to get myself out of bed and come to you after all, even though I was half asleep, even though I can't pay for the cab, even though I have an appointment in the morning. Even though it would compromise my integrity. Why? Because I couldn't stand the thought that you might be mad at me... that I upset you... that I did anything to make you unhappy. I felt guilty. Maybe I did something wrong. My fault...my fault. Is it my fault?

We both decided to take this week to work on ourselves, right? Well, I'm trying to clear my brain fog. We both decided to burn our ships this week, right? Well, one of my "ships" is the fantasy that I am responsible for and capable of bringing happiness to those I love, including you. So, no matter how hard it is for me to feel anger at you (and it's nearly impossible, I assure you), I need to face the reality... I need not feel guilty. If anyone should be mad about tonight, I should be mad at you.

Of course, I'm not mad at you... not at all. I can't be. I don't want to lose you as a part of my life. But you? It seems like you couldn't care one way or the other about whether or not you "lose" me.... You may think our "non-relationship" is nothing, but think about it from my position-- I've given myself to you emotionally and physically for quite some time, and so all this is inevitably is wrapped up with my sense of self. This is wearing. I'm degrading myself here. Whittled away. I'm tired. So tired, Narc!

I don't want to love you anymore.

It just hurts too much. Maybe I shouldn't sleep with you anymore. I don't know... I know I'm going to regret writing this. I already do.

"What is he going to think when he reads it?" I panic. "He's not going to answer. He's going to erase it and ignore you. And he's going to hate you and write you off as 'hysterical' or 'over-emotional' or 'irrational.' If you care about him, and if you care about staying friends and/or ever sleeping together again, sending this letter is a surefire way to make things even worse."

"Don't be silly," another voice says. "You've known him a long time and he hasn't disappeared. He'll read it and he'll see how you feel and he'll think about it and take it in and it'll all be okay. He's a rational person. He's your friend. He doesn't hate you. He won't close you out just for being honest."

"Honesty will tear open what's already infected though. If you want to preserve anything, this is a bad move..."

I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm delerious with exhaustion. (I've been up nearly 24 hours now.) I don't know what you're going to think. But I know that I've tried not saying anything about my feelings for a really long time.

("How's that working out for you?" "Honestly, not so well, Dr. Phil!")

So, tonight with my dry and sleepless eyes, pounding headache, tightened chest and frozen fingers clicking on the keyboard, I'm trying something different. In truth, this letter is not about tonight. Tonight was just one drunken night. Fine, so you were drunk. Whatever... Fine, so you got me up out of bed; you raised my hopes and then rejected me; you called me a wanker a few times, told me I suck and hung up the phone on me. Whatever... I don't care about tonight. We've done this night before a million and one times. Standard repertoire. And don't get me wrong... I've been the drunk one countless times myself. It's not about alcohol. It's not about tonight. It's about what I heard in your voice underneath all that alcohol. The disregard for me. Disdain.

Narc, if I'm wrong, please tell me that I'm wrong. If you don't feel that way about me... if you do value me in any way, as a friend, or anything, tell me! Correct me! Because right now, the message that I'm getting is a shitty one. And IT HURTS.

I know that it's as much my own fault for staying invested in something that's hurting me. You're not responsible for my feelings or my actions. And those are things I need to figure out and deal with for myself. But I just wanted to say this now while I'm still feeling the hurt, so that I won't forget it in the fog of tomorrow morning's denial. Without a doubt, I know that I'll manage to bury this, the way I have buried every single other hurt and invalidation.

I don't hate you, Narc. In fact, you know that I love you... at least the parts that I've been allowed to share with you. But I don't understand what's expected of me here... how am I supposed to feel, react, behave? Who am I to you? Do you love me or hate me? Enjoy me or resent me? Value me or think I'm shit? I'm really fucking clueless at this point. And honestly-- a lot of the time, I don't understand why you spend time with me at all. Is it just that I have free time and so do you? Am I just a warm body that will be easily supplanted as soon as a better option comes along?

Please remember I'm a girl, a person, a soul. I hope that's not all that this is. Is that all that it is? Is that all that I am? I'm really very confused right now. Confused and hurt. Confused and hurt.

Fuck me for writing this letter. I hate myself right now for what I'm about to do... I don't want to send it. But, fuck it. I'm doing it anyway. Take a deep breath, Hyde... One ship down. How many more to go?

____________________

Like I said... I didn't have the guts to send the letter. Let the denial begin. Let the burial begin. By morning it will be halfway completed.

Stupid, hypocritical, asshole, Hyde! I hate you for all of this. Stupid childhood-coping-mechanism'd brain! It's your own fault. Let him sleep it off. Keep the peace for now. Put some space there. Let things return to normal.

(No, you dumb fuck! Your normal with Narc is NOT NORMAL!)

Whatever... Enough of this for one night. It's 4:00 in the morning. I'm going to go lay in bed now and stare at the blue-hued flickering shadows on the wall. (Yes, I'm making reference to Plato's alegory of the cave. And yes, I feel like a prisoner facing illusions. (And yes, that was a shout out (of sorts) to Dan!)

I'm deleriously tired.

-h-

PS: Please excuse typos and unpolished writing. I'm too tired to do any better, and certainly too tired to spell check...