Feeling:
Listening to:
Reading/Watching:

Once I told a friend, "I let people in too much. I trust too much. I love people with my whole heart, and when I find out something bad about them, it really hurts me. For instance, if I ever discovered that you're not the friend I thought you were, I would be absolutely crushed."

Yes, this was Charlie Brown. And I thought my heart was safe with him, but when I sent an e-mail saying "What's up how are you doing" etc., he wrote back asking if I would do him a "small favor" by never e-mailing or calling him again because he had "strong feelings for me- feelings of revulsion." Then he added some details explaining why he'd been so nice to me, saying he was trying to be nice because I seemed like a nice person, but it only deepened his "revulsion." And his friendship was a fa�ade that only proved the ability of his "acting."

Commence breakdown.

Yes, when I told a few online friends about this they said the exact same things you're probably thinking. Complete with expletives and promises of violence. I'm glad for their loyalty, but...

God.

I'm still shaking. I'm trying to avoid self-recriminations, telling myself this is in no way my fault, that it's entirely his, but I really cared for him. You need only skim through past entries to find evidence of that. Even if he didn't return my feelings, I thought he was a friend. It entirely baffles me that someone I thought was so close to my heart could be such a sham, such a cold-hearted person as to pretend to be my friend, to go out of his way in calling me, talking to me, coming over when he saw me, calling out my name across a crowded quad and waving, opening his heart to me and letting me open mine to him, and then tell the truth in such a matter-of-fact, articulate, soulless way.

For some reason, my brain rejects it. I reel in disbelief. It's ridiculous. Something doesn't quite add up. He's not that good of an actor, and even if he were, why all the effort? Was he anticipating the moment of truth with sadistic glee, or something? And I didn't realize I was that horrible at reading someone. Especially someone I thought I knew so well. I'm usually very accurate at knowing when someone doesn't like me, whether I understand their motives or not, and to be so completely blind to this one is beyond description.

Last night after reading this I just went to my room. I didn't want melodramatics- as a matter of fact, I even wrote him back as politely as possible, saying I was sorry we couldn't be friends, thanking him for telling me now at least instead of in another four months, saying it would have been far kinder of him to not pretend so damn hard if he really disliked me that much. My friend Briana would kill me for being so spineless and apologetic to the likes of him, but I'm still learning her "fuck you" attitude in life.

I read books, I cried every ten minutes and would stop as soon as possible because I didn't want to live up to his probable expectations, I played angry girl music (thank you, Fiona Apple), I even prayed for strength and the ability to wipe him from my mind until I saw him again in January.

But something really doesn't add up. Some self-preservatory part of me insists that he must be lying for some reason or another, but I truly can't have imagined the laughter in his eyes or his camaraderie. It was there, and I knew it. Occasionally we would tease each other or get on each other's nerves like siblings, but I thought there was always affection. He told me everything about himself. He opened up to me. He was warm, he sought my eyes across a room. He let me sleep on his shoulder, dammit. You don't do that when you dislike someone that much.

Why would he lie? What possible motivation could he have? It just doesn't make sense. Tiger thinks he's scared for some reason, which also doesn't make sense. CB's told me before how he never had what he felt were real friends, how he unconsciously tested people, to see how far their friendship would bend, to see whether they really cared about him. But this isn't bending; this is breaking the damn thing off and hurling it over a cliff.

He told me he thought of me like a sister. I was willing to accept that. I doubt he would write something this cruel just because he's afraid he's developing feelings for me. A simpler method would be just not replying to my e-mails, ignoring and/or avoiding me.

I've never wanted to curse more in my life. I've always said I save them up for important occasions, when they're really meant, and this would be the opportune time, but I'd rather it not go down in posterity with little "@#$&"s all over the place. However... I swear, if he approaches me next semester with overtures of friendship, or tries to pretend everything's fine, I will let loose.

This is by far the cruelest thing that has ever been done to me, and I've endured cruelties before. I'm not exaggerating. If I had the strength, I'd copy and paste the meticulously-worded coldness he sent me right here, but I can't bear to read it again. I can't seem to breathe when I look at that word: "revulsion."

He closed his e-mail by saying, "I'm not the person you thought I was, am I?"

Indeed not. Was he expecting me to write back in fury? Heaping recriminations on his head to make him feel better, feel justified? "Look what a bitch she's being, it must not be my fault." He seemed to have written it carefully, calculating exactly what he would need to say to hurt me the most. He got to know me well enough to do that excellently, that's for sure.

Friends have volunteered various explanations. "He's a d!ck-head." "He's obviously homosexual." "He's scared of how he's starting to feel for you." "He's bipolar... the kind that swings back and forth every three months." "Someone stole his e-mail password and knew how to mimic his writing style."

I don't know. I don't know. All I know is I spent hours last night trying not to sob and usually failing, saying over and over, "Dear God, I thought he was my friend."

Beware sadistic friends with very convincing masks. It hurts. I couldn't breathe for a moment there. I realized why people coin that phrase "broken heart"- your chest literally hurts sharply until you remember you need oxygen to survive. And I don't want to exist right now; I haven't felt like this in so, so long, and I was doing so well but the temptation has never been so strong, and I even plotted ways to do it- to stop fighting, to disappear, never have to see him again. But I can't let him win.

It's like the most viciously convincing dream I've ever had. And I try not to cry, and do anyway, and never wake up.

He did win. I will hate him for the rest of my life.

Comments? 0 so far...
Not a Diaryland member? Sign the Guestbook.