Taking a page out of someone else's blog

How did we find ourselves in this place?

For five months, you've told me that I was too important to you, for you to risk losing me. That you simply could not and would not tolerate that. If nothing else, above all, that friendship was not something you were willing to give up. In fact, all the other bullshit aside, that was what you were most concerned about getting injured in amongst all the other things that went on.

But it seems to me, from where I am now, where I finally went to gain some perspective and some peace, that you don't give a shit about that friendship, not if you actually have to do something to repair it. You know you were the one who fractured it. You asked more of me than anyone should have asked of a lover. More of a friend, too. And I broke, trying to keep you together, and happy. And now that I'm broken, like a toy too often discarded and left in the yard without care, you no longer care enough to repair me, and take care of me.

I am disappointed, in myself and in you. I thought better of you than that. I had thought myself a better judge of character. I honestly thought that you were the loyal, honest, trustworthy man that I believed you to be. I know that you made a mistake that weekend. I know that you did something you shouldn't have done, and I know that it hurt you and it hurt me. And that sucks, and I tried to get past it, and let it go. Because in spite of what it cost me, I love you anyway. And you were so guilt-ridden, I didn't want it to wreck what we had. And you were so confused, and so angry. And with each passing day, especially when she started talking bullshit about you, you got more and more angry at her, because of the bullshit.

And once you had distance from her, we were fine. Happy, even? And even if we'd tried, and failed, I could have lived with that. Because then, we would have been friends, as friends would have been fine. But instead of the promise you made, where you took space from her, and we made that attempt, with her not a part of your life for a while...while I was gone, for three days? You just couldn't resist talking to her while I was gone. And I know you tell me that it has nothing to do with her. This choice to change your mind, and not give it a chance now. But now, the two of you are friends again...and we're not.

I know that was her plan, a while back. That she had no intention of so much as being you friend, if you had anything to do with me. It was one of her conditions, as I recall. That I be gone from your life, if she was to be in it. And that pissed you off completely. You wanted no part of that. But that seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle, with me out of town trying to sort things out. And she leapt on that, didn't she? Me being out of town. What happened to you wouldn't call her, she wouldn't call you, while you and I were together?

So how did we find ourselves here? How did we go from you weren't willing to give up a friendship with me, not willing to risk our friendship...how did we go from that, to you just don't care enough to even try to repair it, even though you know that it's broken, because of the things you did that wounded it, and me? Why do you not have any regard at all for my feelings, and the way you injured me? And injure me you did, partially unintentionally, and partially because of what you did that weekend, and the fact that you wanted me to hold you together, and while I did...you've now gone back to her...and trashed me and our friendship in the process.

I'm angry at you. You lied to me. You betrayed me. You broke me. I have the right to be angry. You act as though those aren't valid feelings, and that I'm in the wrong, and I'm not, and that isn't fair. You get defensive, because you know that my anger is perfectly valid and that what you're doing isn't fair to me. I did nothing to harm you. I took care of you when you needed it, and you've now treated me with less courtesy than you would generally show an enemy in a war. I was loyal, and honest and trustworthy.

I was all of the things, and I *proved* that I was and am all of the things that *she* is not. And you keep going back, as though it's some sick addiction. You know what she's capable of. It's not love, it's lust? Some sick infatuation you simply can't pull away from? She's manipulated you, because she has all your secrets and knows precisely how, and you keep letting her, because you can't seem to walk away long enough for your head to stop spinning. I thought you were stronger than that.

You were doing fine, with no contact. I know, because I was there. You were hurting, but you were finally clear-headed. Right up until she finally could speak to you, and twist you around again. Then the merry-go-round started spinning again. You were conflicted. You didn't know how you felt. You were confused again. And we fought. And I ran. I can see now that I shouldn't have. And now it's too late for that.

I don't envy you the position you're in Phillip. It's very hard, to be addicted to something that's so dangerous and so potentially lethal for you. And anyone who can do the damage to you that she can is dangerous indeed.

Fingers have been pointed at me for years, for what I did to you a long time ago. She points them at me regularly. Only now, I'm not the danger to you. I'm the safety zone. I was the comfort, and the person who was willing to shatter to make sure you were well cared for, and wouldn't break. And I think, if you sit and really think about it, you'll see that's true. I'm good for you. I was very good for you. Even when we go head-to-head, and disagree on some things, I was good for you. Because I *don't* hurt you. Because I wouldn't hurt you. Because I have no desire to twist you up for my own personal gain.

Be careful of what you're so willing to throw away, Phillip. I told you point-blank that if you want to keep this friendship intact, it has to be you who repairs it. You broke it, and I won't fix it. I didn't do anything wrong this time, and I mean it. But I won't play bullshit games either. If you try, I won't sit and play twisted little petty games. I won't pretend that I'm not still angry. I won't pretend that I'm not hurt and confused and betrayed. But I'll still be me.